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A 



HUNDRED YEARS AGO, 



AND 



OTHER POEMS. 



CHAELES W. E. SIEGEL, A. B., 

STUDENT IN THE REFORMED THEOLOGICAI/ 
SEMINARY, LANCASTER, PA. 



I 





LANCASTER : TQJ ^ 
DAILY AND WEEKLY EXAMINER. 

1875. 






.575' 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S75, 

By CHARLES W. E. SIEGE L, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 




TO 



A. E. F. 



|[h;s Knassnming littlt Molnmt is nJlntiamUlTO inscribtd. 



th ^^^ 



CONTENTS. 



A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Page. 

I. Prelude. 3 

II. Revolutionary Heroes. - 6 

III. Interlude. - - - - - 9 

IV. Birthday of Liberty. - - 10 
V. Song of Freedom. - - - 11 

EARLY POEMS. 

Ruth and Naomi. - - . 15 

The Shepherds of Bethlehem. - 23 

A Welcome to Spring. - - 27 

" Consider the Lilies." - . - - 29 

The Easter-Vow. - - - - 38 

The Evening Wind. - - - - 41 

My Old Trunk and I. - - - 46 

OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Only a Glimpse. - - - - 53 

The Vow of Mizpeh. - - - 78 



vi contents. 

"Ulmus Ameeicana." - - - 90 
O Anthr<^pos, Graduating Poem. 97 

"Adsum." Ill 

UNDER THE WILLOWS. 

A Tribute to the Memory of J. 
C. Leisse. 117 

Memorial Verses, on the anni- 
versary OF THE DEATH OF B. F. 

Smith. ------ 120 

Lines to the Memory of Ella M. 

Kling. 125 

Lines to the Memory of Mrs. E. 

C. Keller. 127 

Thoughts, on Hearing of the 

Death of Miss Ida V. Linville. 132 
An Epitaph. 135 

SOUL-BEEATHINGS. 

The Garden-Tomb of Golgotha. - 139 

Only One. 143 

Home Mission Hymn. - - - 145 

Sunday Evening Song of Praise. 147 

Jesus, the Glorified. - - - 149 

We Would See Jesus. - - - 151 

The Spiritual Temple. - - 155 

Holy! Holy I Holy! - - - 156 



CONTENTS. Vll 

SONNETS. 

I. Soul-Beauty. - - - - 160 

II. To "Daisy." - - - - 161 

III. Autumnal Splendors. - - 163 

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

A Missouri Homestead. - - - 165 

An After-Call. - - - - 171 

"Vox Humana." .... 176 

Lingering Echoes. - - - 179 

October-Dreams of Summer. - - 182 

The Mystic Painter. - - - 185 

Chiques Eock. 188 

November Seventh. - - - 192 

Snow-Flakes. - - - - - 194 

Another Year. - - - - 197 

The Sleeping Lily. - - - - 199 

Flirtation. ----- 201 

The Headless Grasshopper. - - 203 

Verses for an Album. - - - 205 

An Acrostic. 207 

Komeo to Juliet. - . - . 208 

The Token. 210 

An Acrostic. 211 

BLATTER AUS DEM LEBENSBUCH. 

Des Arbeiters Abendlied. - - 215 



'm^ 



viii 



CONTENTS. 



SONNENLICHT DURCH WOLKEN 

BRIGHT. 217 

Der Owetstern. - - ^ - 219 

Der Alt Pater. - - - - 221 



A HUNDRED YEABS AGO. 



Empires and States, Lord, are thine, 
And thine the rod of righteous law ; 
From Thee the ivise their ivisdom draw, 

Fountain-head of truth divine ! 

Thou windest up the clock of Time, 

And hidst it strike the world's great hours; 
Men's puny wrath and boasted powers 

Must help to work thy praise sublime. 

My Country, glory-croivned and true, 

Mother of the ^nighty Free ! 

Thou glorious land of liberty. 
One song for thee and thine is due. 

The weakest prattler at thy knee. 
That se-eks thy siueet, maternal smile. 
May claim thy patient ear aivhile, 

Mother of the mighty Free I 



A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



PRELUDE. 

Across the river Time, — 
Across the onward-rushing tide of years, 
Extends a bridge, majestic and sublime, 
Firm-wrought upon a hundred solid piers, 

Whereunto scarce our thoughts can climb. 

Bridge of a hundred years ! 
Thee Freedom's holy hand has beautified ; 
Far through the narrowing space my spirits peers ; 
While trembling o'er the joisted beams I stride, 
My soul the sacred Past reveres. 

A glorious peep of dawn 
Looks in the window of that distant day ; 



4 A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 

Below let foaming breakers break and yawn, 
That golden flood still widens on its way; 
I see each misty gray withdrawn. 

Uphold me, bridge sublime, — 
Ye golden-fruited years, divinely linked ! — 
Unclouded be that heav'n's heroic prime, 
Wherein the first fair stars of Freedom winked : 
Inform, enlighten me, O Time ! 

I lean far out and o'er. 
And gaze into the misty depth below ; 
I mark the mighty river sweep and roar, — 
The never-ceasing current foam and flow, 
To meet an ocean without shore. 

Thou wonder-teeming flood ! — 

Dark stream, o'erbridged by Freedom's hundred 
years! 

Thou bearest on thy bosom heroes' blood, 



PKELUDE. O 

And many a tribute dear of widows' tears, 
That by thy peaceful margin flowed. 

But glorious shall ye rise, 
Before ye reach Oblivion's ocean-bed, — 
Caught up in dew-bright pearls to peaceful skies. 
And with the beams of fame and freedom wed, 
Flash round the world as morning flies. 

What fragrant, blooming bells 

Have I to strew above their sacred dust. 

For whom great bards have twined their immor- 
telles ; 

While armor, hung against the wall to rust, 

Their noble deeds of valor tells. 

Arise, ye scenes sublime ! 
Awake, thou storied Past ! Heroic peers 
Of peerless days, revive that golden prime! 
Stand firm, thou bridge of freedom's hundred years, 
High-arched across the river Time ! 



A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 

11. 
REVOLUTIONARY HEROES. 

We call to light the buried days, 

From out the peace of printed tombs, 
When, 'neath oppression's lurid haze, 

Grew dark the boding thunder-glooms, 
And leapt in fiery wrath below, 
Whose fervid flare 
Shook earth and air, 
A hundred years ago. 

Across the mists of Lethe's wave. 

From out the long and dreamless night, 
Our reverent thoughts recall the brave. 

That strove for freedom's sacred right. 
And fearless struck the righteous blow, 
That burst the bands 
Of shackled hands, 
A hundred years ago. 



REVOLUTIONARY HEROES, 

More than the figments of a dream, 

That haunt the chambers of the brain, 
Those noble-statured heroes seem, 

Tow'ring above their native plain ; 
Their forms and deeds familiar grow. 
As when they wrought. 
Or fell, or fought, 
A hundred years ago. 

Their lives to them were dear as ours. 

Yet not too dear at Freedom's price ; 
Sweet peace thy loved and peaceful hours, 

Nor joyed in dreadful sacrifice. 
Yet lion-hearted met the foe. 

Whose tyrant-hand 
Oppressed the land, 
A hundred years ago. 

Before their homespun valor quailed 
The proudest ranks of Grenadiers ; 



A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 

And at the warm reception paled 

Full many a face lit up with sneers, 
When farmer-rifles laid them low, — 
Self-summoned men 
From hill and glen, 
A hundred years ago. 

Leaving the cattle yoked afield, — 

The plow mid-furrow, deep in earth ; 
The grist-mill grinding, many-wheeled ; — 

The peaceful home, the genial hearth, 
They went where duty bade them go. 
Not bought, nor sold. 
Nor bribed with gold, 
A hundred years ago. 

Unconscious they were great and good ; 

With little noise great deeds were done ; 
O earth, thou drankest noble blood. 

When on the green at Lexington 



INTERLUDE. 

The sunset saw its crimson flow, 
When closed the fray 
That April day, 
A hundred years ago. 

We reap the harvests they have sown, 
And Freedom's fruitful acres yield ; 
We pluck the flowers of peace full-blown 

From many a hard-won battle-field ; 
Our glorious nation's birth we owe 
To men of might, 
Who loved the right, 
A hundred years ago. 
III. 

INTERLUDE. , 

Before the Star that heralds day, — 
Before the morn's prophetic gray. 

There steals, with footsteps soft as dawn, 
A deeper gloom o'er field and lawn ; 



10 A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 

And mornward-fronting pilgrims 'wait 
The opeDing of tlie golden gate. 

"Oil, watchman, tell us of the night ! 
When blooms the rose of early light ? 

"When shall the heav'ns be dipped in gold?" 
But while they ask and doubt, behold ! 

The advent- streaks of dawn advance, 
And bring the young day's sweet romance. 

IV. 

BIRTHDAY OF LIBERTY. 

Day of days, thou hast arisen, — 
Broken from the long night's prison ! 

Shafts of glory rout the gloom ; 
Hail ! thou blessed morn of mornings, 
Sending forth thy rich adornings. 

Till the heav'ns are all abloom. 



SONG OF FREEDOM. 11 

In tlie aged State House, gravely, 
Sat the good old Congress, bravely, 

Reason's forges all aflame ; 
Long they sat and long debated ; — 
Long th' impatient bellman waited, 

"Independence" to proclaim. 

High, with tumult of elation. 

Throbs the heart of freedom's nation, — 

Beats the pulse of conscious power ; — 
Booming cannon, rocking steeple, 
Sound the message of the j)eople, 

Till it shake the tyrant's tower ! 

V. 

SONG OF FREEDOM. 

How beautiful upon the hills. 

Oh, stately maiden, pure and grand, 
Fair daughter of my Mother-land, 

Thy feet, by silvery-footed rills I 



12 A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 

Til' andante of the singing brooks, 
That chant along the valley-copse, 
And sunny-breasted summer-slopes. 

Or babble 'neath sequestered nooks, 

To thy calm footsteps measures time, 
O bearer of the palm of peace ! 
Kemain, sweet, heav'nly guest, nor cease 

To charm as in that glorious prime. 

O angel^Drow! O lovely eye 

That heav'n's serenest azure mocks! 
O waves of bright, abundant locks, 

Where sweetest charms in ambush lie! 

Thine is the gift of endless youth. 

And thine the realm where love controls ; 
Thou wouldst be wooed by ardent souls. 

That pledge thee love's eternal truth. 



EAKLY POEMS. 



Spring-blossoms, frail and fleeting !- 

A single hreatli of air 
May rudely snow them earthivard, 

To 2^6rish in despair. 

Spring-blossoms, frail and fleeting, 
0^ erwatched by Fancy's elf ! — 

Luring the starving thought-bees 
From out the hive of self. 

Spring-blossoms, frail and fleeting, 
Soft hints of summer-days; — 

A May-day's sweet illusion. 
That smiles and then decays! 



RUTH AND NAOMI. 

" They lifted up their voice and wept again ;" 

And Moab's plain was dewy witli tlie drops 

Of parting sorrow. Far as liuman eye 

Could reach, to where the circling mountains 
propped 

The bending sky, 'twas summer-beauty all. 

In bridal robe arrayed. Songsters of joy 

Poured forth the rich, full melody of love 

From many-nested groves; sweet flowers smiled 
forth 

From out the waving grass, opening their eyes 

Of transient beauty to the light of heav'n ; 

O'erburdened boughs scarce bore the precious 
weight. 

Ere long should drop in fruitage-gathering hands ; 

And waving fields stood rijDening into gold, 

That waited but to fill the reaper's arms : 



16 EARLY POEMS. 

All, all was lovely in tlie stranger's land, — 
The land that knew not God, yet favored seemed 
Above the plains, where milk and honey flowed. 
But eyes, that oft had feasted on such wealth 
Of beauty, saw it not; for blinding tears 
Now dimmed their vision. Morning and the dews 
Awoke the dreamy world to life and light ; 
Dropped pearls on valley-rose, and gently laid 
A blessing on each sweet white lily-bell; 
But had no cheering ray for two sad hearts. 

They stood together. One with furrowed brow. 
And sad, despondent eye, that plainly told 
A history of tears, of withered hopes, 
And vigils by the dying and the dead ; 
And yet, she wore that patient look and meek. 
Submissive mien, that w^ell reveals the worth 
And hidden beauty of a woman's soul. 
Wherein all hope and love can never die, * 
And dark despair can never wholly live. 



RUTH AND NAOMI. 17 

Amid the graceful foldings of lier thin, 
Dark hair, appeared the silvery threads of age. 
Which long, untiring cares had planted there, — 
Dear tokens of maternal love, and jewels 
That well befit the crown of honored age. 

The other — still the bloom of life's young day, 
With little of its dewy freshness lost, — • 
Clung to her with a daughter's fond, firm love ; 
And though the orbs of xlay-light to her soul. 
Whose prominence bespoke the virtuous mind 
And life untarnished, trickling gentle tears. 
Had sunken slightly, yet their gleam of hope. 
That brightened half her clouded soul, remained; 
For she was young and beautiful and good. 

They stood together — mother and daughter; 
They stood together, — 'tw^as their parting hour. 
Naomi's words fell kindly from her lips. 
And all the yearnings of a mother's heart 



18 EAELY POEMS. 

Were in tlieir tones. She spoke persuasively, 

That Ruth might stay where plenteous harvests 
grow — 

Betwixt her native hills — on summer-plains, — 

And 'mongst the kindred spirits of her youth ; 

Until through mists of sadness, shrouding in 

Life's morning-ray, a brighter sun should flash ; 

Then might rekindle on some homely hearth 

The sacred flame of wedded love in peace. 

Once more, as if Impatience strove with Love, 
Naomi snatched a final parting kiss, 
And would have torn herself away at once. 
Had not two snowy arms twined round her then, 
Two eyes looked up beseechingly, two lips, — 
Those paler lips of Ruth, — thus broken forth 
In the resistless eloquence of love : — 

"'Entreat me not to leave thee,' Mother, 
I cannot stay, and see thee go alone ; 



RUTH AND NAOMI. 19 

In the long years we've been together, 
How have our souls in love together grown ; 
And now thy form is bent and aged, 
How soon thy feet shall falter in the way. 
And like an autumn-leaf, too rudely shaken, 
Shalt thou, unloved, unheeded, pass away ; 

Yet oh ! my love would soothe thee. 

When o'er thee come those darker days ; 

"We've trod joy's path of roses, — 

I'll follow thee on thorny ways :' 
' Entreat me not to leave thee,' Mother, 
I cannot stay and see thee go alone. 

" ' Whither thou goest, I will', Mother, 
^And where thou lodgest, I will lodge' with thee. 
How could I stay and thou be distant ? 
Those footfalls in the halls of memory, 
Sounds of the past in muffled cadence, 
So oft would sting me in my loneliness. 



20 EARLY POEMS. 

Thou wert my youth's best friend — the truest. 
And thou didst first me dau2;hter call, and bless. 
When erst my young affections 
The silent slumberer i' the grave had won ;— 
The absence of thy presence 
Would rob existence of its sun : 
' Whither thou goest, I will,' Mother, 
' And where thou lodgest, I will lodge with thee. 

*'And 'thy people shall be my people. 

Thy God my God,' for evermore. 

Have I not parted with endearments — 

With home and friends, with household God's of 
yore,— 

That with the 'Amen' of Jehovah, 

Our bridal vow might e'er be stamped and sealed? 

And while the cable of God's mercy 

Still draws me Zionward, shall I not yield? 

Hymeneal bands have bound me 

To Canaan's heritage of grace ; 



RUTH AND NAOMI. 21 

The longing of my spirit 

Seeks rest with God's peculiar race ; 

And * thy people shall be my people, 

Thy God my God/ for evermore. 

' AY here thou diest, will I die/ Mother, 
* And there will I be buried,' close with thee ; 
Methinks 'tis soil more consecrated. 
Than fallow fields of Heathendom could be. 
Though thou'st not where thine head to pillow, 
And empty and estranged thou seek'st thy home. 
Yet, oh ! sweet Mother, I will follow, — 
Companion of thy fate, — oh ! bid me come ; 
I've vowed the vow of Heaven, 
That nought ' but death part thee and me' ; — 
Nay, death may rear no barrier : 
Thy Heav'n my Heav'n at last shall be. 
'Where thou diest, will I die,' Mother, 
' And there will I be buried', close with thee." 



22 EAELY POEMS. 

" Amen," Naomi said, " come, daughter, come ! 
For this strong plea of love defeats my firm 
Resolve; nor will I longer vainly strive 
Against the gracious ways of Providence : 
Come, daughter, come ; and God reward thy faith." 

The morning-sun rode on in majesty, 

And kissed the little dew-drops in the grass, 

Till up their pearly cheeks a coloring ran 

Of sevenfold tint ; soft winds breathed soft fare- 
wells. 

And happier birds sang sweeter in the shade, 

As arm in arm they journeyed on. 



THE SHEPHERDS OF BETHLEHEM. 

"Veni, Redemptor gentium, 

Ostende partum Virgmis ; 

Miretur omne sseculum: 

Talis partus decet Deum." 

—Ambrose. 

'Tis midnight. O'er Judean fields afar 

A holy silence reigns; 
And oh ! how brightly burns each lovely star, 

TJ]3on those heav'nly plains ; 
The terraced hills, and every rocky height, 
Is softened by the pale moon's mellow light : 
How holy, holy is the night ! 

Where skyward-looking hillocks kneel in prayer, 

By Edar's ancient tower ; 
God-fearing shepherds guard their fleecy care, 

At that momentous hour : 
If they but knew, those holy men and good, — 
By Nature's deep pulsation understood, — 
How holy, holy was the night ! 



24 EARLY POEMS. 

Marked ye how on the dialplate of Time, 
Lone "vvatcliers of the plain, 

Prophetic hands have met to sound the prime 
Of our Messiah's reign? 

And heard ye not within the worlds high tower 

The striking of that great, eventful hour? — 
How holy, holy is the night! 

E'en now, while ye await the Morning-star, 

That lights celestial globes. 
Bright heralds in the heavenly halls afar 

Gird up their flowing robes. 
O happy men! what kings might deem delight, 
Shall not be hidden from your humble sight : 
How holy, holy is the night! 

Behold ! what light, above the highest noon, 
Illumes the nightly scene ; 

The brightest stars, that lately shone aboon. 
Are lost in golden sheen; 



THE SHEPHERDS OF BETHLEHEM. 25 

And midst the trembling shepherds one appears, 
Whose form is light,— whose smile becalms their 
fears : 

How holy, holy is the night ! 

And hark! cherubic armies shout their song 

Of joy and praise on high; 
" Gloria ik Excelsis " rolls along 
The archway of the sky ; 
"Good will to men," and ^' peace on earth" resound 
From hill to hill, — to earth's remotest bound : 
How holy, holy is the night I 

Bright sons of morning sang, with heaven-tuned 
skill, 

The young Creation's birth ; 
And harpers sweetly harped on Zion's hill ;— 

But ne'er were heard on earth 
Such glorious strains of rapture and delight. 



26 EAKLY POEMS. 

As roll along those corridors of light : 
How holy, holy is the night ! 

But on, lead on toward Bethlehem, nor fail 
To mark that heav'nly sign; 

The infant Saviour of the world there hail, 
Low in the Manger's shrine ; 

There shines the morning-star, there dawns the day, 

There breaks the Light that drives the night away : 
Hail, holy Light ! to Thee I pray. 



A WELCOME TO SPEING. 

Hail, glorious Spring ! tlioii queen of flowers, 

Thy loved return we greet; 
By sunny smiles and quick'ning showers. 

By balmy air and sweet, 
Thou com'st attended, to regain 
The realm of Winter's icy reign. 

We welcome thee that bring'st the birds. 

With all their merry glee ; 
The clover for a thousand herds. 

And murmurs of the bee ; 
Thy touch makes all the sky serene, 
While bending o'er the lovely scene. 

Welcome, thou resurrection day! 

When Nature from her tomb. 
Amid the gorgeous hues of May, 



28 EAELY POEMS. 

Awakes to youthful bloom ; 
The earth, where're thy breath has been, 
Now wears a garb of living green. 

My soul, awake, arise, expand! 

And join the happy throng; 
How canst thou mute and lifeless stand, 

When Nature is all song? 
Kevive, O Springtide from above, 
This heart, to praise eternal Love. 



CONSIDEE THE LILIES." ^ 



I CAN not make it grow, — 
I can not make the life-streams ebb and flow, 

Along its slender veins ; 

I can not make one leaf 
Crowd skyward, like the ocean's coral-reef, 

With all my care and pains. 

Sweet lily of my care, 
To give thee daily moisture, sun and air, 

Afibrds me dear employ, 

And as each bloom, on roll. 
Unfolds the silky w^hiteness, like a scroll. 

It looks its lily-joy. 

I cannot make thee grow, — 
I can not make thy first pure bell of snow 
Come forth, in queenly state ;— 



30 EAKLY POEMS. 

First silver cup to be, — 
Fulfillment of thy young life's prophecy, 
For which! wait and wait. 

Lo ! heav'n its gates unbars, 
And golden sunlight, silvery moon and stars, 

Sail o'er the silent sky ; 

And morning's saffron light ; — 
Auroral glintings from the far north night, — 

All greet me by and by. 

And as I gaze and gaze - 
"Upon those golden islands, all ablaze, 

In heav'n's ethereal sea. 

Mid half unconscious sighs. 
And homeward-longing looks to yon fair skies, 

There comes a thought to me. 

Behold the thoughts of Love ! 
The Hand that launched those mighty worlds 
above, 



CONSIDER THE LILIES. 

And guides them evermore ; 
The Maker's hand that winds 
The clock-work of the universe, and binds 
The seas from shore to shore ; 

The Hand that's ne'er at rest, — 
That paints the rosy sunset of the West, 

And pilots cloud and storm, — 

That plastic Hand divine. 
In robes of beauteous grace, sweet lily mine, 

Adorns thy comely form. 

Lilies of field and flood, — 
Lilies in meek and lonely sisterhood, 

That fringe the valley-brooks, 

Ye all alike do share. 
In silent trust, a loving Father's care. 

As says the Book of books. 

Ye toil not gold to find. 



32 EAPvLY POEMS. 

Nor spin, like lilies of the human kind, 

Nor weave the silken woof; 

Yet robed in fairer state, 
Than Solomon in all his glory great, 

Beneath a gilded roof 

Your lovely, silent brows 
Ye ever raise to heaven, and make your vows 

To Him that loveth you ; — 

To him that called you fair, 
From virgin lips, ye breathed your incense-prayer, 

When at his feet ye grew^ 

In silver chalice bright 
Ye catch the crystal dews of heav'n at night, 

Distilling one by one ; 

To creatures of the dust 
Ye preach the wealth of heav'n-directed trust, 

And cheer them on and on. 

Not gentler rocks, I deem, 



CONSIDER THE LILIES. 33 

Upon the silver-rippled river-stream, 

The downy-breasted swan, 

Than ye, at sunny rest, 
Upon the placid lake's unruffled breast. 

From dewy dawn till dawn. 

Go, bee, where nectar drips, — ■ 
Go taste the honey of the roses' lips. 

And go and come all day ; 

But go thou not to sup 
Deep in the lily's white and stainless cup, — 

Go not, go not, I say! 

Go not, sin-pampered knave. 
To batten on the pure, the good and brave. 

Excusing blind caprice ; 

Nor steep in purple shame 
The snowy robe of innocence, and dream 

Thy guilfcy soul at peace. 

Sweet lilies of the vale, — 



34 EARLY POEMS. 

Ye cloistered maidens, lovely, yet so frail ! — 

Why bloom ye all unseen ? 

Why must the wooer bold, 
Who would unsought those hidden charms behold. 

First lift your veils of green ? 

Methinks ye have not lost 
Your Eden-loveliness, when fell that frost — 

The blighting frost of sin ; 

Bloom on, ye sweet and fair. 
Breathe odorous music on the list'ning air, — 

Prompt purer thoughts within. 

And woo us back to God, 
And Paradise restored, where never trod 

The foot of with'ring strife ; 

O spotless things of earth ! ; 

Ye seem to me a race of heavenly birth 

That preach a purer life. 

We hail the sturdy oak, 



CONSIDER THE LILIES. 35 

Witli miglity arms advanced, as with a stroke, 

To fight the wintery wind ; — 

The glory of the hills, 
And lordly peer beside the wood-land rills, 

Tree-king of every kind. 

Yet inharmonious all 
"Would quiring Nature's grandest music fall 

On list'ning souls, it woke, 

Did not the weak and strong, 
The beautiful and grand, make up the song, — 

The lily and the oak. 

From Eden's lovely bowers 
They followed woeful ma>i mid darkest hours, 

Far down the vale of tears; 

They cheer us for a time 
On this bleak shore, until we reach the clime, 

Where bliss has dateless years. 

We twine them in a wreath. 



36 EARLY POEMS. 

And croAvn the bride ; on sacred vow they breathe 

A silent, sweet "Amen;" 

We place them with a tear 
In ice-cold hands of loved and lost ones here, 

And weigh thee Now and Then. 

And by the couch of pain, 
Or where the slow and raging fevers reign — 

Sweet ministrants of love, — ■ 

These lily-saints of light 
Keep silent watch, and spurn the gloomy night, 

Like angels from above. 

Beautiful thoughts of God ! 
Fit emblems of Incarnate Love, who trod 

Earth's rugged paths and vile ; 

His priceless jewels to win, 
That Lily pure among the thorns of sin, 

Relinquished Heaven awhile. 

Oh ! lily fair and fine, — 



COI^SIDER THE LILIES. 37 

Sweet lily mine^ and yet not wholly mine, 

I could not make tliee grow ; 

Nor could I thrice and thrice, 
AVith all my care and pains, or fond device, 

Make thy six lilies blow. 

There is an unseen Power, 
That makes the oak an oak, the flower a flower, 

And thee so sweet and fair; 

ISTor thou, dear heavenly gift, 
Nor I, on life's wild sea, can ever drift 

Beyond His love and care. 



THE EASTER- VOW. 

The day returns, the happy day, 

That made our love divine; 
With sacred care 'tis hid away, 
In memory's golden shrine : 
Then our young hearts like meeting currents met, 
And hope in deeper stream dropped anchorlet. 

All in the Springtide's budding prime, — 

All 'neath the height'ning sun, — 
All midst an Easter's silvery chime, 
Was greener life begun ; 
And like Spring-flowers, to sun-light from above. 
So oped our hearts to brighter beams of love. 

Ah ! like the sweet white lily-bells. 
That bloom i' the valley glades. 
Or where the babbling brooklets swell, 



THE EASTER- VOW. 39 

They scent the lonely shades ; 
So thou didst bloom to God and solitude, 
Unlike thy sister-roses, bold and wooed. 

And I had nursed for many a day 

A pleasing, untold smart ; 
Sweet incense on the altar lay, 
The altar of my heart, 
Unburned, till thou didst lend the flame, 'tis plain 
For only love can answer love again. 

Pure love in two congenial souls 
Must have its source above ; — 
O let us seek the stream that rolls 
From forth the Fount of Love ; 
log ether seek our mated souls His grace,— 
Together bring this tribute to His praise: 

Father, to Thee 
We lift the meek, adoring eye ; 



40 EARLY POEMS. 

O draw us, keep us ever nigh, 
Father, to Thee. 

Jesus, to Thee 
We dedicate these hearts anew ; 
Our deepest, warmest love is due, 

Jesus, to Thee, 

Spirit, to Thee 
Our earnest, longing souls aspire ; 
O sanctify our hearts entire, 

Spirit, for Thee. 



THE EVENING WIND. 

Softly murmur gentle breezes, 

Sighing through each leafy bough ; 
Often when the turmoil ceases, 

Do ye fan my burning brow. 
Whither, cooling current, gliding 

Through the gath'ring shades of night? 
Thee w^hat unseen hand is guiding 

On thy mission of delight? 

He that stationed high in heaven 

Yonder glorious orb of day ; 
He that leads at stilly even 

Forth each star in bright array; 
He that scooped the ocean-fountains, — 

Guides the brook through grassy glen ; 
He that calls the springs from mountains, 

Bade me seek the haunts of men. 



42 EAKLY POEMS. 

Bade me breathe on shutting flower, 

Meekly bowing on its breast ; — 
Kock awhile in shady bower 

Little wood-birds in their nest ; 
Then through parted curtains stealing, 

Kiss the tender child asleep; — 
Bade me bring a balm of healing 

To the wounded hearts that weep. 

Bade me seek the poor man's dwelling, 

Besting on his door-way sill, 
From his breast each care disj^elling, 

And to ward pfi* every ill'; — ■ 
Through the old man's window pressing, 

Where the ancient ivies twine, 
Bade me breathe a generous blessing 

Bound his silver locks divine. 

Wind of evening, calm and soothing. 
Brother of the twilight-shades ! 



THE EVENING WIND. 43 

Often in my lonely musing, 

"VVlien the day-star's glory fades, 
Hear I angel-whispers faintly 

And a sound like rushing wings ; 
Deem I hear a music saintly, — 

Seraphs touching golden strings. 

Go, then, noiseless wanderer, laden 

With sweet balms to ease fatigues ; 
Lift the ringlets of the maiden 

Lightly from her rcsy cheeks; 
Go, and whisper happy greeting 

Bound the " College on the Hill," 
Tell them that my heart is beating 

Warm in love and friendship still. 

Go upon the mighty ocean, 

Where the mountain-billows roll, — • 
After toil and wild commotion, 



44 EAELY POEMS. 

Calm the sailor's fainting soul ; 
And his home-sick bosom swelling. 

At thy gentle undertone, 
Shall rejoice to hear thee telling 

Of the land he calls his own. 

Go, when Hesperus is leading 

Forth his sentrj-host on high, 
Soothe the wounded soldier, bleeding, 

"Whisper peace to those that die ; 
When the parting spirit ceases 

To inspire the heaving breast, 
Swell its sails, ye gentle breezes, 

Toward the haven of the blest ! 

Sweetest charmer, ne^er forgetting 
First to greet the evening-star. 

When my earthly sun is setting, 
May thy solace be not far ; 



THE EVENING WIND. 45 

Native once of Eden's bower, 

Come, when those who loved me best, 

Cherish o'er my grave no flower, 
Visit oft my lonely rest. 



MY OLD TRUNK AND I. 

There was a time wlien this old trunk was new, 
And he and I went forth to try the world ; 
The stately ships, with floating flags unfurled, 
Seemed proud to bear us forth 'twixt blue and blue : 
Thus, true and tried, 
O'er seas we plied. 
When this old trunk was new. 

But ah ! we've changed, and all things changed we 
knew ; 
Then both were fresh, untried, and I was green ; 
We are not now the same as we have been : 
The sterner sun of noonday sipped the dew 
Of youthful prime. 
That pearly time. 
When this old trunk was new. 
Within these wooden walls, that seem to you 



MY OLD TRUNK AND I. 47 

The leathern shreds of some mammalian back, 
Did I my all of worldly treasure pack, 
And deemed that I was rich, and held it true, 
In days long spent, 
'Mid calm content. 
When this old trunk was new. 

And yet, how many an anxious thought I knew. 
When I awaited oft, though tough of skin, 
To take him back with all his ribs crushed in, 
From baggage-men, or steamship's ruffian crew; 
How wrung my peace 
With fears like these, 
When this old trunk was new. 

Behold him wear upon his forehead true 
The lable-landmarks of a foreign shore ; 
These monumental scraps conceal a store 

Of unrecorded history to you, — ' 



48 EARLY POEMS. 

To me, each seal 
Was something real, 
When this old trunk was new. 

Had he but language, had he speech, to you, 
To me, to all, w^hat tales might he unfold : 
How, from those sacred precincts, fingers bold 
A holy greenback of the Church withdrew, — 
Not in the blaze 
Of palmy days, 
When this old trunk was new. 

Aye, had he language, had he speech and knew 
The use of rhyme and feet, he'd ply his art. 
And tell what written treasures of the heart 
He kept, and how one o'er him stooped to view 
An image sweet, 
He loved to greet, 
When this old trunk was new. 



EARLY POEMS. 49 

There was a time when this old trunk was new, 
But hardships manifold have worn him doAvn; 
For him I fain would twine a lasting crown ; 
Honor to him, my noble friend and true, 
Who still is left 
Of treasures reft, 
When this old trunk was new. 



(?) 



OCCASIONAL POEMS. 



ONLY A GLIMPSE. 



A poem clelivered at the Thirty-eiglitli Anniversary of the Goe 
thean Literary Society, Franklin and Marsliall College, Lancaster, 
Pa., May 9, 18T3. 



King of the golden sceptre — 

Sun of the orient noon ! 
Sky of the blue and saffron, 

Bland as the maiden moon ! 
Clouds of the feathery cirrus, 
Flitting and fading full soon ! 
Prompt me awhile in my dreams of heaven 
Sweet is the sympathy Nature has given, 
Oft as my spirit has heavenward striven. 

Peak of the star-tipt mountain, 
Battered by storm and hail ! 

Beautiful lea of the valley ! 
Stream of the silvery trail ! 



54 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Queen of the gardens of Sharon ! 
Sweet-scented lily of the vale ! — 
Prompt me awhile in my dreams of heaven : 
Sweet is the symj^athy Nature has given, 
Oft as my spirit has heavenward striven. 



'Tis but afternoon, the golden summer's balmy af- 
ternoon ; 

Earth and all her myriad forms of beauty share the 
heavenly boon. 

Midway 'twixt the empyrean and his rosy couch 

the sun 
Shifts his bright pavilion westward ; — cloudless had 

his course begun ; 

Cloudless still, benignant like a father's smile the 

splendor falls, 
Bathing Moab's verdant j)lain in light, and Nebo's 

granite walls. 



ONLY A GLIMPSE. 55 

Crystal waters leap from rock to rock, and flash 

witli fitful liglit, 
Like a shower of starry brilliants, falling in the 

silent iight. 

Now and then the zephyrs lightly lift the tresses of 

•the trees ; 
Now and then in chorus join the building bird and 

busy bees. 

Sunny ripples kiss the flow'rets, leaning o'er the 

river's rim. 
While the dangling willows dally with the water's 

glassy brim. 

All is harmony, and peace, and love, and joy below 

— on high, 
As it were the festal-day and bridal of the earth 

and sky. 



56 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Yet, why hangs there o'er the camp of yonder 

mighty host this day, 
Heavily, a cloud of gloom, that penetrates no 

heavenly ray ; 

Why upon the sacred stillness of the balmy, peacful 

air 
Break the muffled tones of murmur, as of stricken 

souls in pray'r? 

Why arises from that throng the stifled sob and 

heavy groan, 
Growing loud and louder, like the swelling of the 

ocean's moan? 

Lo, a nation weeps! and, gazing up that rocky 

mountain slope. 
All that orphaned people beat their breasts, as 

those w^ho have no hope ; — 



ONLY A GLIMPSE. 57 

Watcli a lonely figure climb tlie steep, whose face 

tliey never more shall see, 
Growing fainter as the shadows lengthen on the 

velvet lea ; 

Till upon a beetling cliff, that overlooks the depth 

below. 
Stands in bold relief a living statue in the sunlight 

glow. 

Noblest type of man, "take him for all in alF' — in 

every sphere,— 
Grand above the bard's conception, sun! when 

hast thou seen his peer? 

His has been the mighty pen that wrote the first 
historic page ; 

His the grand, immortal epic of the worlds pri- 
meval age. 



58 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Ere tlie Grecian Homer sang Acliilles' wrath, liis 

lofty strain 
Long had echoed down the corridors of Time that 

grand refrain, 

Which has melted into music on the honeyed 

tongue of Greece ; 
And ^Genestho Phos''^' will echo on when time itself 

shall cease. 

'Tis the leader of the hosts of God — and well his 

loss they mourn — 
Moses, servant of the great I AM, of men the 

meekest born. 

Noble scion of a princely root ! when the spoiler's 

cruel hand 
Plucked the tender shoots of Israel, within a seryile 

land. 



'Let there be light!"— Motto of the Society. 



ONLY A GLIMPSE. 59 

Thee, a blossom of unearthly beauty, culled from 

ruin's rock, 
God appointed saviour, guide and shepherd of His 

chosen flock. 

Aye, and thou hast been a sturdy oak to yonder 

swaying vine. 
Brought from Egypt's soil to flourish on the hills 

of Palestine. 

In the stormy tumult of that surging sea of human 

souls. 
Thou hast stood alone, a tower of light above the 

rocks and shoals ; 

Led them by a father's hand from Nilus on to Ca- 
naan's verge. 

Standing oft between the frail offenders and Jeho- 
vah's scourge. 



60 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Long and weary was llie march: before thee lie the 

goodly hills; 
Far behind the dreary desert with its many 'woes 

and ills. 

But another's rod shall guide the tribes in their 

triumphal march, 
When thy silent slumber shall be undisturbed by 

mortal search. 

Now the patriot has looked his last upon the tented 
plain, 

And the pearl of sorrow in his eye bespeaks an in- 
ward pain. 

Yet, 'tis not the pain of unrelenting grief for fruit- 
less years; 

But the softened tenderness of chastened love that 
speaks in tears; — 



OXLY A GLIMPSE. 



61 



'Tis tlie holy calm of eventide, tliat ends liis day of 

life, 
All tlie sweeter after tempest for the clouds and 

stormy strife. 

And his rocky pathway now is ended — ended in the 

light,— 
On the peak of Pisgah, cloud-embosomed in the 

ether height. 

Oh ! if thou hast ever stood upon the mountain's 
lofty crest, 

AVith emotions of a boundless joy within the heav- 
ing breast, 

While the sun a moment lingered on the threshold 

of the West, 
Ere behind the sombre curtains of the hills he went 

to rest, — 



62 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Lingered doubtful there awhile, with locks unshorn 

and golden-curled, 
As to bid farewell and throw a parting kiss across 

the world ; 

And thy dewy eyes have looked upon the bosom of 

the plain, 
Peaceful as the sleeper's brow, Avithout the shadow 

of a pain ; 

Then, methinks, before thy spirit's vision rose a 

landscape fair, 
With the highest height of Nebo, tow'ring in the 

ambient air. 

Thou hast thought on him, who caught a glimpse 
of all that lovely scene. 

With enlargement of his vision, and an eye pro- 
phetic keen. 



ONLY A GLIMPSE. 63 

How majestic, like a pillar o'er the ruins of a 

plain ! 
Looking back upon tlie mighty stretch of sand and 

tombs of slain. 

O the dreary, dreary desert ! O the barren, barren 

land! 
Where the ruins of the mighty dead are crumbling 

in the sand. 

From thine ark of rushes; from the reedy fringe of 

delta'd Nile, 
God in love has brought thee safely: turn thee, 

turn thee now awhile . — 

Turn and view the goodly land, thy soul so long 

has yearned to see, 
'Tis the last, the crowning favor of Jehovah's love 

to thee. 



64 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

. Lo ! an hundred years and twenty left the furrows 

on thy brow, 
Left thy locks a silver glory, but thy strength they 

could not bow;— 

Could not quench nor dim the starry lustre of 

thine eagle eye, 
'Tis unclouded, piercing to the utmost purple rim 

of sky. 

What a miracle of beauty sleeps before his ravished 

sight ! 
What a lovely Eden, smiling in the sunset's golden 

light! 

Sheltered by the guardian hills and waving palms 

■ of fragrant breath, 
Jordan rushes boldly onward, merging in the Sea 
of Death. 



ONLY A GLIMPSE. 65 

Many a limpid vein, that brings its tribute from 
the distant hills, 

Swells the stately stream, and feels the fresh pulsa- 
tions of the rills. 

Many a broad expanse of emerald meadow, many 

a smiling dell, 
Breaks in lovely dimples on the face of slanting 

hill and fell. 

IsTestling in its grove of palms, the palm of cities, 

Jericho, 
Sits a queen beneath her canoply of branches, far 

below ; 

Far beyond, the rosy fields of Sharon kneel befor^ 

his view. 
Waiting for the nightly benedictions of the pearly 

dew, 



Q6 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

lu the distant North, the flushed and bending 

heavens, as they bow, 
Lay a warm and rosy cheek on Hermon's cold and 

snowy brow. 

Lebanon's majestic cedar-crown, and Carmel's 

blooming height. 
Loom before his eager gaze, and thrill his soul 

with calm delight. 

Yet, 'tis not the lovely landscape, resting 'neath 

the smile of heav'n, 
That alone can keep his vision spell-bound, in the 

calm of even. 

His prophetic soul, methinks, has caught a glimpse 

of nobler scenes : 
O the bright and glorious future, O the night that 

intervenes ! 



ONLY A GLIMPSE. 67 

BetHehem, at midnight, in its ampitlieatre of 

hills, 
Suddenly is changed to glorious noon-day, and 

with music fills. 

Far-sonorous symphonies of angels, with enchanting 

strains, 
Echo and re-echo nightly o'er Judeah's hills and 

plains. 

And that lowly manger, with its wondrous Babe 

methinks he sees, — 
Sees the lovely star that trembles o'er it in yon 

dome of peace; — 

Sees the only Sinless One, where Galilean billows 

roar, 
Breaking in melodious swells of foam upon the 

emerald shore. 



68 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Last of all, the Prince of life, the mighty Sufferer 
hangs in death; 

Calvary is shaken by an earthquake's deep, con- 
vulsive breath. 

High on ISTebo's rocky shoulder, Moses leans his 

head to die ; 
Lonely couch of death ! no human ear may catch 

his parting sigh. 

There no friendly hand may smooth his pillow for 

the dreamless sleep; 
None may whisper words of peace and love, and 

o'er him gently weep. 

Yet, within the arms of Heav'nly love, and meekly 

pillowed there, 
Oh ! how seems it but an answer to his oft-repeated 

pray'r. 



ONLY A GLIMPSE. 69 

He had longed for Canaan, — -only for the type of 

that above : 
God bestows the antitype, the home of peace and 

love. 

Strike, ye angels, strike your golden harps! ye 

Seraphim, begin ! 
Stand apart, ye hosts, and let the grand procession 

pass between ! 

All ye heavenly wardens, stationed on the battle- 

mented height, 
Light the starry tapers, deep within the azure vault 

of night ! 

Ne'er a mighty one of earth had burial half so 

grand and blest; 
For Jehovah digs the grave, and bears him to his 

lonely rest. 



70 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Shift, oh, shift, ye purple hangings ! 

Ere the twilight quench the day, — 
Ere the remnant of its glimmer 

Fades in gloom and fades for aye. 
Sweetest hour of balmy visions ! — • 

On this foreland's crest of gold, 
Bending o'er the unknown ocean,— 

Wrap me in thy mystic fold. 
Here we'll watch the cloudy strata 

Drifting on the burning tide ; 
Here we'll mark the changing glory 

Westward on its journey glide. 
Here the billows break in music 

On the rocks and sands of Time, — 
Tidal-waves by angels started. 

Ending here in heav'nly rhyme. 

Yet the cloudy veil of crimson 

Now methinks is rent in twain ; 
Brighter vistas of the golden. 



ONLY A GLIMPSE. 71 

Clear and molten mystic main 
Flood the senses : there no night-fall 

Casts the shadow of its gloom ; 
Pharos after pharos brightens, 

Bursting into sudden bloom, - 
Like the diamond stars in heaven, 
• When the dusk is turning dark, 
Lo ! a white-robed angel-pilot 

Guides to port a stately bark ; 

And the clangor of the anchor- 
Chain methinks I hear once more. 

Dipping into crystal waters 
By that distant, peaceful shore. 

Could I tell thee, fellow-stranger, 
Of those heroes robed in light. 

Thronging round the shining haven. 
Who once walked the strand of night; 

Tell thee, how in hands triumphant 
Palms of victory they bear ; 



72 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

How a saintly soul is added ; 

How the welcomes load the air ; 
How the orgau-peals of Heaven 

Roll across the sea of glass, 
Till the dulcet liquefaction 

Grows e'en sweeter as they pass. 
Shift, oh, shift, ye purple hangings ! 

Ere the twilight quench the day, — 
Ere the remnant of its glimmer 

Fades in gloom and fades for aye. 
Lo ! the cherished dream has faded : 

Lonely in the dark I roam ; 
. From the wings of fainting echoes 

Fall the sounds of " welcome home," 



THE VOW OF MIZPEH. 



Delivered on the occasion of the 39tli Anniversary of the Goe- 
thean Literary Society of Franklin and Marshall College, May 8th, 

18T4. 



Koll in ye roaring seas, and ever roll, 

And fiercely dash against the daring rocks, 
With snowy crests of foam, like fleecy flocks, 

That o'er the slanting hill-side grazing stroll ; 

And let the trumpet-tone of every blast 
Announce the battling armies of the air — . 
Give nerve to beard the lion in his lair. 

And catch the lightning as it hurries past ; 

Transport the soul to highest flights of song, 
And make it monarch of revolving lights ; 
Enthrown my fancy on the frowning heights,' 

And, like the eagle's, make her pinions strong. 



74 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Yet will I choose those gentler scenes, that stir 
The depth of filial love in human hearts, 
And where the day-star on his journey starts, 

Prefer the palm to oak and mountain-fir, — 

The stately palm, nursed by the sun and dew, 
And cradled in the arms of milder storms ; 
And sing of Orient-lands and lovely forms. 

That oft my spirit, child-like, homeward drew. 

Like pink and pearly shells of ocean sing, 
And ever sing a song of sounding waves — 
Of^homes in submarine and sunless caves: 

This tribute of my spirit's home I bring. 



Sunrise upon the hills of Palestine, — 

And silvery dews on emerald spires of grass ! 
And sunrise, too, o'er Mizpeh's shifting mass, 

That ebbs and flows a human tide divine! 



THE VOW OF MIZPEH. 75 

A human tide, and wave on wave of life 
They surge along a crowded, noisy street, 
And different sex and age and passions meet, 

While faint and dauntless feelings are at strife. 

Ah! why with lovely, yearling buds, half-blown, 
And nestling close to fond, maternal hearts, 
Came forth each wife and mother, and departs 

With dewy eyes, and moans a stifled moan? 

Why, speechless, parts the son with aged sire, 
And burns on pallid virtue's lily brow 
The lover's last warm kiss, with many a vow, 

While warrior-eyes flash forth heroic fire? 

Why snuffs the battle-steed from far a breath, 
As of a mortal. foe, and paws the ground? 
And why in mid-air mounts the brazen sound 

Of shields and spear-heads, barbed with bloody 
death? 



76 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

The mighty Jephthah musters for the march ; 
And all the flower of Judah, fiercely clad, 
He marshals with the valiant sons of Gad ; 

And over all bends heaven's approving arch. 

There comes a moment, fraught with anxious doubt, 
Before the fateful battle-word is given, 
That makes the chieftain pause and look to 
heaven, 

Though made of steel, unbending, firm and stout. 

As when, before th' imprisoned tempest breaks 
The bulky, cloudy billows of the air, 
The pulse of nature stops, and pale despair. 

From heav'n-kissed hills to distant, slumbering 
lakes. 

Is deeply written on her wrinkled brow. 

Upraised, as if imploring Heav'n : thus stands 
The warrior Jephthah, lifting lofty hands. 

His look a prayer, and on his lips a vow. 



THE VOW OF MIZPEH. 77 

All, woe for thee, proud Ammon — ^proud of deed ! 
The print of Gentile foot on sacred sod 
Alike to Jew is hateful, and to God: 

Thy doom is set, — thy strength a swaying reed. 

O Israel ! the God of battles still 

Shall fight thy battles as of yore has done, — 
Stand thou a staring, listless looker-on : 

Yet victory resounds from hill to hill. 

Nay, turn we from the woes of war, and thou 
And I shall mark the scenes of vision shift, 
And fairy-fingered summer-breezes lift 

The random-hanging ringlets from a maiden's brow. 

She standeth tall and stately as a palm. 
Or lily tall, that angel hands unroll. 
And guards the sweetness of her ripened soul, — 

A moment moulded in colossal calm. 

Then blithesome as the tunefal bird of May, 



78 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

As if the scarce unfolded flower of June 
This Eden fain would guard from summer-noon, 
Where calyx-bound the sweet corolla lay. 

She stands before her father's royal tent, 
Fing'ring the silken tassels of her robe ; 
And peers afar, where dim blue vistas ope. 

As if beyond the welkin's western bent. 

Hushing the quick pulsations of her heart. 
Stilling the tempest of her sighs of fear. 
Expectant bridling oft her breath to hear. 

With lips, as held by whispered prayers apart. 

And o'er the heaven of her beauteous brow. 

With eloquent mutations all aglow, 

The tell-tale lights and shadows come and go, — 
NoAV bright with hope, and sorrow-clouded now. 

Each bursting bud of inward joy appears 
To blossom forth into a rosy smile, — 



THE VOW OF MIZPEH. 79 

One moment like some lovely ocean-isle, 
Then checked by snoAV-falls of foreboding fears. 

"Shall I behold thee crowned victorious yet, 
Oh father, — sun of all my youthful day ! 
And strew with flow'rs thy joy's triumphant way, 

And meet thee with the ivied coronet? 

" Or haply shall with thee the sun go do down ; 

Or fall the oak, that claims my clinging love; 

The ocean cease to be, wherein I strove 
To lose affection's gushing stream alone?" 

So queries Jephthah's queenly daughter: then, 
As if arose from far off ocean-caves 
The melancholy wash of endless waves. 

Awoke the distant shouts of warlike men. 

The dull, commingling din of mighty hosts ; 

The leaden tramp of thousands, marching home ; 



80 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

The bugle's blare, that rends the welkin dome, 
And each alternate lull, triumphant boasts. 

« 

The stately horse moves on in majesty; 

The chariot-wheels, that crushed the fallen foe, 
Roll o'er the perfume-breathing iiow'rs, that know 
1^0 happier death, and live that they may die. 

" Come now, my faithful maidens ! 'tis the hour — 
The birthday of my people's new-born peace. 
The herald dawn of day, whose bright increase 

Shall crown the noon of Jephthah's regal power. 

" Come, bring me forth the robes of purest white ; 
And bring me forth the timbrel, sweetest-tongued, 
That e'er my father's halls with music thronged, 

Bring sweet wild-flow'rs, my sisters of delight. 

"And I will lead, and ye shall follow me, 
And we shall meet the hero on his way ; 



THE VOW OF MIZPEH. 81 

Delay, oh, golden eye of sinking day ! 
The shadows lengthen on the velvet lea." 

By all the golden wealth of lovely youth ; 

By all the music of the spheres of soul ; 

By all the sweet unrest, without control, 
That makes the poetry of life a truth ; 

By all the balmy deeps of sweet content ; 
By all the dewy dawn of starry hopes, 
Who would not grasp the hand of Fate, that 
gropes 

In night of chance, and cry : " Belent, relent ! " 

"But no," we stammer in the self-same breath, 
" A higher Hand is pilot to that hand ; " 
Then breathe a sigh, that unawares should stand 

So sweet a victim on the verge of death. 

Lo ! foremost comes the warrior ; heeds nor songs 



82 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Nor daughter's sweet rehearsals of his name ; 
His soul is in the starry heav'ns of fame, 
Borne up on winged shouts of myriad tongues. 

Yet now he heeds her: O, how beautiful! 

How like a dream ! — ah, might it be a dream !- 
E'en Beauty's self incarnate, must it seem 

To that fond father's heart ; all else seems dull. 

Now may ten thousand ranting voices rise. 
And heedless drown above th' applauding hills- 
Not all their lofty combination thrills 

His soul like that sweet vision in his eyes. 

Her face is yet the happy home of love. 

That fills the temple of her sweet, white soul ; 
And on it sits enthroned, in calm control, 

The majesty of angel-brows above. 

Alas! in one short moment, what extremes 



THE VOW OF MIZPEH. 83 

Of joy and anguish meet! O'er Jephthah's brow 
A deathly pallor creeps: "Behold, that vow," 
He groans, "has shattered all my lovely dreams. 

"How piercing, like a lance, that cruel vow! 
So sharper than the arrows of my foe : 
O, lovely daughter ! thou hast brought me low, 

These laurels turn to ashes on my brow." 

Then, like a flower, disrobed of all its charms, 
She stood a space ; but straight the truth divines, 
And round her father's neck the maiden twines 

The soft luxuriance of her warm, white arms. 

"O, father! let it be as thou hast vowed," 

She pleads with trembling lips, yet soul resigned, 
"And I, the bride of Death, will go and find 

A balm in woodland rills and mountain-cloud : 

"Since I the trophies see for which ye strove. 
And on His foes Jehovah turned his ire ; 



84 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

'Tis sweet to die for God, my land and sire, 
And by that strong and threefold cord of love 

" Lowered softly down into a silent grave, 

To sleep with them that sleep : come, let us go." 
" Alas, my daughter ! thou hast brought me low, 

My only child, and bravest of the brave! 

"Now not a single silver star is left 

To shine upon my dark and dreary night ; 
And whence shall come a sunbeam's golden light 

To cheer my pathway, when of thee bereft? 

"Ye winds, that come o'er Jordan from the West! 
Come, gather up the threads of joyous song — 
The timbrel's broken notes, that float among 

The tall tree-tops, that shield the river's breast; 

„ And with the matchless rhythm of dancing feet, 
Inweave them into one sad dirge of woe ; 



THE VOW OF MIZPEH. B5 

For Mizpeh's towered cage shall never know 
A merry song-bird's melody so sweet. 

" Full oft the frank and darling dawn shall kiss 
The tears of night from off the brow of earth ; 
But ever thee, the fairest floral birth, 

His gaze, among thy sister-flowers, shall miss." 

"Strike once more the virgin chorus! 

Come, adorn me e're I die. 
Maiden-playmates of my childhood ! — 

To the mountains let us hie, 
'Mid the day-star's golden setting — 

Pearly-beaded drops of dew — 
Summer-twilight's mournful shadows, — 
Help me mourn my sad untimely doom ; 
Help me mourn my blighted maiden-bloom. 

" From these rocky towers of silence. 
Gaze upon the promised land ! 



86 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Like a garden crowned with roses — 

Eastward to the Syrian sand- 
Westward to the waves of Jordan, — 

Blooms it in the golden haze ; 

Ah ! the lovely charms of Nature 

Pledge me stores of happy days ; 

Earth is gay with laughter and with song : 

Must I leave, and yet so young — so young ! 

"Then, adieu, ye emerald meadows, 

Threaded by the silver streams, — 
Ye I greet with moistened eyelids, 

Where I dreamt my golden dreams ;- 
All my lambs along the hillocks. 

All my flowers beside the brook. 
And ye shadowy arms of elm-trees. 

Guarding home's sequestered nook. 
Where yon streamlet sings itself to sleep. 
On that glassy bosom's calmer deep. 



THE VOW OF MIZPEH, 87 

"Heav'u, adieu! tliou fount ethereal, 

Where I drank since life began ; 
With thine azure-tinted bosom, 

Yearning for the love of man ; — 
With thy rosy-colored cloudlets. 

In the sunset glories dipt. 
On that silent scroll of heaven 

Oft I read the starry script, 
Underscored by love and light and dew, — 
Stereotyped on night's unfathomed blue. 

" Fare ye well ! my playmates, faithful 

All through life's delightful dawn: 
iFrom the Spring-tide's floral fullness — 

From the golden day-light drawn, 
Never more, with lightsome dances ; 

Sounding timbrel, wedded song. 
Shall I lead your festive chorus 

Flow'ry, peaceful plains along : 



88 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Yet, my spirit, hov'ring near, shall bless, 
When, as brides, ye speak the happy — yes. 

" Sisters, round my raven tresses 

Weave the wood-land roses pale; — 
Lead me to that fearful altar. 

Bride of Death, so young and hale ; 
Once I hoped to see it redden. 

Eastward, on my bridal morn; 
But life's dewy day-blooms wither, 

E're my noon of love is born. 
Lord, I am prepared, receive me nigh ! — 
Father, slay ; — but kiss me as I die ! " 

And as the golden glories of the dying day 
Smote all the mundane mountain-heights ablaze, 
Like beacon-fires, where struggling souls might 
gaze. 

There stood an altar 'neath its glimmering ray ; 



THE VOW OF MIZPEH. 89 

Beside it, robed in white, a virgin brave, — 
A stricken father, mutt'ring forth a moan ; 
Then through the gath'ring gloom there came a 
groan, 

And all was silent as the silent grave. 

The dusky clouds along the tinted West, 
Piled barricades about the sun-down quay ; 
And weeping twilight closed the eye of day, 

And all the sad winds softly whispered — "rest." 



"ULMUS AMERICANA." 



Tree ode of tlie Class of '74, read oq tlie Campus of Franklin and 
Marshall College, June 24. 



I. 

Merry class-mates, say, wliat planted we, 
In the planting of this ulmus tree ? 

One suny monrn in darling May, 

When this year's baby leaflets burst 
Their Winter shrouds within a day, 

And held their tiny lips, athirst, 
To Heav'n for sunshine, rain and dew, 

We broke, all hands, th' unbroken sod. 
With but the exception of a few — 

(Good Shockey dug their share of clod) — 
John, Jerry, Clarence, Dannie, Joe, — 

From bold John Hancock, down the scale, 
To music's Sheridan Monroe 



ULMUS AMERICANA. 91 

With little Eddie and the pail ; — 
And none to act the foreman's i3art, 

And none to give us good advice ; 
Each had his OAvn good plan t' impart, 

But none was worth a single dice. 
We all agreed to plant the tree 

In Heilman's best and latest style ; 
Yet none could guess how that might be, — 
And so we planted here the tree, 

And mark ye how it grows the while ! 

Deep down we dug its ample bed, 

And from their nakedness and dearth. 
We gently laid, like sheeted dead, 

Its rootlets in the lap of earth ; 
We mingled with the native soil 

A darker mould of richer spoil ; — 
Thus with the life that heav'nward thrills, 

In sweet submission planted we 



92 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Two dozen concentrated wills, 
In planting of this ulmus tree. 

II. 

Merry class-mates, say, what planted we, 
In the planting of this ulmus tree? 

Buds which the breath of Virgin Spring, 

Shall kiss awake from Winter-sleep; 
And in the light of balmy June, 
When breezes sigh a love-lorn tune, 

As through the dreamy boughs they creep, 
Shall lengthen many a leafy swing. 

Where mated birds, 'neath Summer-skies, 
Atilt in joyous ease, shall sing, 

And hide their nest from curious eyes. 

We planted for the noontide hour, 
A shifting shadow on the green, 
AVhose voiceless, yet persuasive power. 



ULMUS AMERICANA. 93 

Shall be a generous go-between 
For test-o'erburdened Sophs in June, 
From eight o'clock till Rooney's noon. 



A habitation and a home 

For birds and beetles, bugs and bats, 
High-toned musquito tribes that roam, 

Those dainty -fed aristocrats ; 
For gently palpitating leaves 

A free, unbounded breathing-right. 
Where his imperial palace weaves 

The spider in a single night ; 
And by and by a torch of light. 

When kisses of the dawn shall smooth 
The wrinkles on the brow of night, 

To rouse each songster from his booth : 
All this and more here planted we. 
In planting of this ulmus tree. 



94 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

III. 

Merry class-mates, say, what planted we, 
In the planting of this ulmus tree ? 

An emblem of the hope we hope, 

An impulse of unfolding life. 
An upward-tending aim and scope. 

Firm-rooted faith in storm and strife. 
See how its fragile boughs are crowned 

Along the upright stem with leaves ; 
Its law of life is upward bound, 

And breadth each year to breadth receives. 
Be such our noble purpose then. 

Thus let us set our mind at large ; 
In love to God and love to men. 

Grow upward as our souls enlarge. 

■ "Ulmus Americana," thee 

Thy mother earth and dews of heaven 
Have christened from thy babyhood ; 



ULMUS AMERICANA. 95 

And this remain, aspiring tree, 

Henceforth thy cherished name, as given. 
Kind earth and heav'n provide thee food ; 
These towers,* that pierce th' ethereal blue, 
These guardian wings and walls, 

Protect thy tender years from wrong; 
The benediction of the dew 
Shall not omit thee as it falls ; 

These brother-trees, so tall and strong, 
Scorn not thy young companionship ; 

Like secret lovers, here in bliss. 
Thy youthful brow and trembling lip 
The maiden moon shall nightly kiss. 

Thus grow to manly strength and grace, 
An added charm to these dear haunts ; 

Thou tak'st thy unpretending place 
Among these older classic plants, 

*The slender young tree, around which undying memories clus- 
ter, stands in front of lhe College building, under the shadow of a 
quartette of pinnacles, that ends the chorus of the tower. 



96 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

As does, still fresh with kisses kind 
Of Alma Mater's honeyed lore, 

Among her sons of sturdy mind, 
The infant-class of seventy-four. 



POEM 

READ ON GRADUATION DAY, JUNE 25, 1874. 

'0 'Av&puTTO-.^ 

^ One star, and only one ! It shines from forth 
The roofless temple of ethereal space — 
From midway on the westward-sloping heav'ns. 
Between the zenith and yon distant rim, 
Where, cheek on cheek, the sky and mountains meet. 
Softly the trailing curtains of the clouds, 
Bleached by the silver moon, are held apart ; 
An^ thence that friendly eye beams forth on earth, 
As from an open window in the heavens. 
Fair harbinger ! a far more glorious host 
Shall follow thee. Thou art the prototype 
Of millions soon to be, as heavenly fair, — 
Born from the deeper darkness of the night ; 



'Man, or the upward-looking one. 



98 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

For thou shalt shortly but a sister be, 
Amid the quiring sons, that sang the praise 
Of time's primeval morning. 

Glorious hosts ! 
Lone sentinels, that pace th' eternal rounds 
Of your untiring "watch! sweet brothers, hail! 
There's that in you, that draws my soul to yours ; 
Your looks are looks of sympathy and love. 
The cold, indifferent gaze of my own kind 
Oft chilled my heart, and I have keenly felt 
The solitude 'mid crowded thoroughfares 
Of cities ; friendless sat beside the Lar 
Of many a hearth, that bore the sacred name 
Of Friendship's fane, in truth ; but never yet 
Have /le It forsaken, looking on the calm 
And: constant brew of heaven, with all the winks 
Lnd wooings of its friendly stars. 

How near 
They seem to heav'n's eternal fount of light, 



O ANTHROPOS. 99 

Who thus have power to sway a mortal's mind, 
And sit in judgment o'er his destinies ; 
Yet thou, O man! art nearer to the throne 
Of God, than they, the solemn stars. Thine eye, 
The only eye, that yearning turns to heaven, 
With trembling consciousness of self and God, 
Divinely sparkles with prophetic light — 
The light of thine immortal greatness — kin 
And heir proclaims thee to the royal house 
Of Heaven ; bird of the bold and eagle wing 
It names thee, ever soaring to the sun. 

But thou, who lookest upward and beyond, 
Whose inmost life is linked to God and Heaven 
By more than golden links of Love Divine, 
E'en thus art yet the efflorescent crown 
And glory of a plant, whose clinging roots 
Embosomed lie in depths of mortal soil. 
Thou master thought of all the thoughts of God, 
The first and central, realized the last! 



100 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Ideal, grand and perfect — long before 

The beatings of tlie heavy clock of time 

Began, full-blossomed in th' eternal Mind, — 

Of golden fruit fair promise, dropp'd into 

The placid waters of infinitude ! 

And thence concentric circles rolling forth 

And ever widening in their dimpled course, 

Till, from the faintest ripple, backward o'er 

The grand gradation to its genesis, 

The plan of God's harmonious universe 

Lay outlined by its Architect Divine. 

Thenceforward, up and towards this central thought. 

Each struggling process of Creation strove. 

Th' Almighty willed, and out of nothingness 

The rude, raw elements of nature sprang ; 

And by His spirit's breath the countless worlds 

Were launched and wafted into space, 

Nor left to sail at random : each can boast, 

As pilot at the helm, the Hand that made 



O ANTHKOPOS. 101 

Them glorious. Here, garlands of goodly stars 
Are woven, there, are wrought in glittering belts; 
Here, planets, strung like beads in bright festoons, 
Are held with spangles of the precious gold. 
The ruby's red, and tints of emerald green ; 
There, choirs of constellated worlds arise, 
That in their very silence music breathe. 
And in whose swiftest motions there is rest : 
All, all to decorate the dome of God ; — 
To hail the advent of immortal mind. 
And proiFer, while eternal ages run 
Their cycles, food for wondering thought and praise. 

In darkness of chaotic night were laid 
The firm foundations of this fatal orb ; 
Yet each convulsive throe and fiery birth, — 
Each dread vicissitude of storm and calm, 
But ushered in a brighter day, and brought 
The toiling footsteps of advancing Time 
Nearer their glorious goal. The winds and tides, 



102 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

In their united toil above the sands, 

Helping the earthquakes build their continents 

And islands, set like emeralds in the depth 

Of seas and moated by the fretting waves, 

Gave utterance to grand, prophetic strains, 

Repeated by the murmurs of the ancient ferns. 

Titanic growths of dark, primeval palms, 

And echoed all along the corridors 

Of ages, where appeared and disappeared 

The mighty aeons of omnific power. 

Until, at last, the long succession closed. 

Through which all living, moving things had passed 

From higher unto higher forms. 

And what 
Shall crown the work that Heav'n pronounces good ? 
The prophesies have all been told. The shrine 
Of God is reared and beautified — the grand 
Cathedral of the Universe complete, 
All, save the heav'n-aspiring dome — nay, all, 



O ANTHROPOS. 103 

Except the living priest is there ; and him 
All Nature craves. The stately house is built 
And furnished; stores of plenty, treasures vast 
And jfrecious, are at hand, it only wants 

Its lordly occupant; the beauteous form 
Of Nature, cast within a perfect mould, 
Is there, but meaningless — it only wants 
An all-reflecting soul; an empire, filled 

With loyal subjects, holds an empty throne, 
Unwielded sceptre and a crown unworn. 
For which there is no royal head. The stars 

That gem the heavens, and gems of flowers that star 
The earth, and all sublime and lovely things. 
That human souls invest with beauty here, 
Are only perfect in the eyes of God 
And Angels ; music is there none within 

The bowers of Eden, more than for the ears of God, 
Or now and then for courier-angels, here 
Crossing in flight from every clime of heav'n, 



104 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

That make the quivering branches murmur, as 
Their swift wings fan the ambient air. 

A pause 
Succeeds. 'Tis like the silent Sabbath eve 
Before the morning of the hallow'd 5ay, 
When ends each week-day's weary work ere night, 
And happy inmates, gath'ring round the hearth 
Of home, give to their souls an attitude 
To feel the kissing breath of nobler skies. 
'Tis thus with Heav'n's angelic bands, that on 
The utmost firmamental verge alight, 
Gath'ring with lightning speed from either pole, 
And o'er the unseen, equidistant belt. 
From east and west. What mute, expectant souls 
Look from the windows of celestial brows ! 
With breathless wonder they behold, how, in 
The plastic hands of God, earth's fallow soil. 
In moulding, grows into a Godlike shape. 
Divinely fair, — a noble form like theirs ; 



O ANTHROPOS. 105 

And how this dust of ages glorified — 
Quintessence of all worlds — begins to breathe 
Th' immortal breath of God ; and in the cool, 
Sequestered hush of Eden, while each bird. 
Twilight-enchanted, sits in dewy sleep, 
First walks, in sweet communion, man with God 
His Maker. 

What, O sun in heav'n, with beams 
Unclouded, proudly throned above the hills 
In noonday splendor, is thy flood of light. 
When guaged with this new dawn of mental day ! 
How pales thy glory in its light! Thou, too. 
Like whirlwinds in their surly pranks, and clouds 
Of tempest goaded by electric spurs. 
Must pay thy homage, ever due to this 
Refulgent spark of bright Divinity. 

Endued with sanctity of reason, lo ! 
What majesty attends thy movements through 



106 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

The templed halls of Nature, thinking soul. 
Thy grand excursions out to farthest bounds 
Of space, from wooing worlds to worlds, exceeds 
The lightning's speed. What noble powers are thine 
To mould all things to suit thy inmost life — 
If pure and holy, pure and holy they — 
And clothe all naked objects with the hue 
Of thine own feelings! Tuneless is the rill. 
When there's no harmony within, and he 
Who has no inward beauty, none perceives 
In earth or sky. 

How, like the honey-bee, 
Does memory gather in from day to day 
Its precious sweets, and poison with the sweet. 
From every garden-plot of human lore; 
While recollection bears in faithful hands 
The golden key to msm'ry's treasure house. 
What daring flights are thine, wild Fantasy ! 
High on the sun-crowned hills of lofty thoughts, 



O ANTHROPOS. 107 

Where starry slumbers build an archway for 
The dewy dreams of youthful bards to pass 
Beyond the narrow limits of the known, 
Thy roofless home is. Thou dost teach him how 
To emulate the headlong storm ; o'erleap 
Broad-breasted oceans ; weave into the woof 
Of continents the silvery threads of bright, 
Arterial rivers ; chant a requiem on 
The key-note of the winds of Autumn for 
The slowly dying year; — and boldly crop 
The tempting roses from the youthful cheeks 
Of smiling dawn. 

The world, O marvelous man, 
Was made for thee, and thou wast made for God. 
What higher badge of royal honors couldst 
Thou wish for? Ruler of all creatures, thou. 
Self-knowing, aye, self-moving, art a law 
Unto thyself — spontaneous, free. Raise, raise 
Above thy lofty brow ! for thine's the high 



108 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Prerogative to correspond with Heaven. 
O man ! if thou but open heavenward 
Thy spirit's temple-doors, the conscious chords 
That form the rich Aeolian of the soul, 
Shall sweetly tremble to the kissing touch 
Of Love divine, harmonious harps in bliss, 
And Heav'n's delicious dulcianas ; shalt, 
Thus pillowed on the father-heart of God, 
O'erlook a landscape sunned by heavenly peace, 
And drink the music of its constant calm. 

What though there's discord deep within the breast. 
And human will is not attuned to God's 
Harmonious will; what though there's wrangling rife. 
And hot debates, that have no end, within 
The council-chamber of the spirit reign. 
And conscience be th' inexorable judge, — 
Amid all sad disorder, still the soul's 
Immortal longings cease not ; — Hope and Faith 
Build on Divine Humanity. Toward him, 



O ANTHROPOS. 109 

Who is the magnet of the universe, 

All spirits tremble, restless evermore, 

Until they rest in Him. And is it not 

The best for man, this life of dreary days, 

And toil and tears ? Ah ! who would call God's plan 

A curse, by which on earth He educates 

Immortal spirits for the higher schools 

Of Heaven ? l!s ot hopeless lies the struggling soul . 

'Tis sorrow builds the shining ladder step 

By step, whose topmost rounds are Heav'nly peace. 

The purest pearls are snatched from roughest seas, 

And oft from gloomiest mines, the brightest gems ; 

The iris-arch, in loveliest color wrought, 

Suspended hangs on darkest walls of Heaven, 

And from the darkness of the night is born 

The rosy childhood of the sweet young day. 

Yea, hope of Heav'n within the breast makes Heav'n 



110 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Of earth, and all is well — ah ! yes, 'tis well ; 
E'eu death is but the breaking of a dawn, 
The waking from a dreary, wasting night, 
And stepping into full and perfect day. 



"ADSUM." 

MEDITATIONS AFTER A LADIES' ALUMNI DINNER, 
AT HARBAUGH HALL. 

I. 

Oft the dull-sonorous thunder, 

Raised by two-score boots and more. 
Made Professors gaze in wonder 
On the mighty Sophomore, — 
Riding on, inglorious, unto glory, ad horn., 
Shouting, as the roll was called, a vigorous — ctdsum ! 

If any of the boys of '74 are within the hearing 
of my voice, they will know the literal and not literal 
of adsum, unless their memories have proved un- 
faithful in the keeping of the relics and trinkets, 
which were carefully laid on one shelf and labeled 
— " Sophomore." 

II. 

Adsum! — while in dust and ashes, 



112 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

Resting from ignoble thrall, 
Lies each worn-out horse of Horace, — 
Still it rings in memory's hall. 
No more closs-room rolls for those whom Duty 

bade " come : " 
Fainter falls, from sadder lips, a tamer — adsumi 



Not all could afford to keep horses in those days, 
and some, indeed, were satisfied with mere frag- 
ments of the noble beast. 



III. 



Adsum! still in glad responses, 

When our Reverend Mother calls, 
Each devoted son pronounces. 
Cheered to seek her sacred halls ; 
Bread, our stomachs growled at: "thank you, 

.ma'am, I had some," 
Offered now but once, we straightway answer — 
adsum ! 



ADSUM. 113 

Everybody tries to say somethiDg smart to-day ; 
as for my humble self, I am only sure of one thing, 
to wit, that I have been doing something smart, 
and without a doubt distinguished myself, (though 
only a few of my immediate neighbors may know 
of it,) with the weapons used in times of peace and 
plenty. 



IV. 



Adsum! Mother dear, and sisters. 
Daughters by adoption thine,— 
D. Ds., A. Ms., A. Bs., and Misters, 
Lo ! we've heard your call to dine : 
What Olympian would not straight forego, e'en 

gladsome, 
Nectar-draughts, ambrosial food, and answer — 
adsum ! 



" Ehret die Frauen ! Sie flechten und weben 
Himmlische Rosen, in's irdische Leben." 

— Schiller. 



UNDER THE WILLOWS 



One sleeps beneath the swaying billows, 
One 'neath the sod where heroes bled, 
And one, with lowly-pillowed head. 
Where desert-sands prepare a bed; 

But ye beneath the church-yard willows. 



A TRIBUTE 



To the memory of my friend and schoolmate, John Calvin 
Leisse, who died -at Myerstown, Pa., April 21, 18T3, in the 20th year 
of his age. 



Is then thy sleep the sleep of death, 
That will not break with breaking day, 
That will not wake with waking May, 

To breathe the magic of her breath ? 

Behold ! a garb of summer's green 
Enfolded twice the naked earth ; 
And twice the twittering songsters' mirth 

Awoke the daisy-dimpled Queen ; — 

Fair Queen that, lapped iai flowery ease, 
Leaves roses on the youthful cheek ; 
And in this nether world and bleak. 

Two autumns mourned the leafless trees. 



118 UNDER THE WILLOWS. 

Since thou, dear star, so early set 
Beneath the dun horizon's rim, 
That walls this world from That and him. 

Hast left us nurse a dark regret; 

Yet oh ! ye purer heav'ns beyond. 
What saintly star looks calmly down. 
From glory's constellated crown. 

And makes me feel the mystic bond? 

A noble, generous heart was thine. 

Who learnest now, in brighter spheres. 
The alphabet of blissful years, — 

The art of music more divine. 

Thine instruments on earth are dumb ; 
'Tis long since last they sweetly spoke, — 
Since last thy skillful touch awoke 

Soul -strains, whereon my spirit swum. 



A TRIBUTE. 119 

I feel a want that thou couldst fill; 

I miss a hand, so warm and true ; 

But long I've looked my last adieu, 
And said : " My aching heart be still." 



MEMOKIAL VERSES. 

Oa the anniversary of the death of Benjamin F. Smith, of Lan- 
caster city, an eminently pious and noble-hearted youth; a zealous 
member of the Band of Hope, and ever ready to come to the help 
of the suffering and oppressed. He departed this life one year ago, 
April 14th, 18T4, in the fifteenth year of his age, beloved and 
mourned by all who knew him. 

"God's fiuger touched him and he slept." 

— Tennyson. 
Sunbeam of heav'n ! one lonely year 

Thou'st left our little world in night; 
'Twas thine, upon some brighter sphere, 
To watch th' eternal dawn appear, 
And ours the groping for the light. 

One year ago, what hopes were rife, 

Before the dreamless sleep of death 
O'ertook thee in thy noble strife, 
And empty left the stops of life, 

That once were full of tuneful breath. 

Dumb silence, deep and awful, stands 



MEMORIAL VERSES. 121 

As watclimaii by the mystic door ; 
No voice, no farewell-waving hands, 
From o'er the billow-burnished sands. 

That glimmer on th' eternal shore ! 

Since thou wast formed of finer mould. 
That scarcely seemed akin to earth — 

'Mid human dross a purer gold, 

Like changelings of the summer-wold 
Thy passage hence, thy heavenly birth, 

Bears date of early-ended days. 

In what bright world's unclouded sphere, 
Beneath what sun's perennial rays, 
Hast thou been singing sweeter lays, 

While we have mourned one sad, sad year? 

Oh! where, beloved, hast thou been 

What pavements of transparent gold. 
And walls, embathed in amber sheen ; 



122 UNDEK THE WILLOWS. 

What river-banks of living green, 
Didst thou, O sainted one, behold ? 

What heardst thou in that home of light, 
For which thy soul had strong desire 

Ere yet the spirit winged its flight, 

And from the utmost earthly height, 

Hadst hailed " My home ! " and passed up higher? 

Upon thy spirit's finer ear 

The music of the angels fell, 
While love-strong we were standing near, 
And 'mid earth's tumult could but hear 

The voice of woe — the doleful knell. 

It passed, that soul in white; it paled. 
The face that smiled a heavenly smile ; 

On earth we missed the light that failed, 

In heav'n an added star they hailed. 
To circle round the blessed isle. 



MEMORIAL VteRSES. 123 

Now come the joyous-hearted hours, 

With all their melodies of spring, 
Bringing ambrosial airs and show'rs, 
And song unto the budding bow'rs, 

And to each voice a merry ring ; 

Bat thou, the synonym of all — 

The pure in heart, the beauteous soul. 

Responsive through whose spirit's hall, 

The echoes of the cuckoo's call, 
And music of the brooklet stole ; 

Thou, versed in nature's sinless lore. 

Art far beyond the change of time. 
For thee our Springs shall bloom no more ; 
But on the bright, celestial shore, 

Th' immortal rose of heav'n; the clime, 

No heat, nor chilling frost can reach. 
And peace of summer calm, are thine. 



124 UNDER THE WILLOWS. 

Alas ! the empty forms of speech, 
By which our struggling thoughts would teach 
The solid truths of things Divine. 

Ah ! why should one so good and true, 

The perfect flower of human kind. 
Who, banded with a noble few, 
From wretched haunts of madness drew, 
With gentle hand, the erring blind ; 

Ah ! why should he be called so soon, 
When earth had need of such as he ; 
When, ere his sun had reached its noon, 
Men blessed him as a heavenly boon — 
Blossom of glorious fruit to be. 

But Thou, O Lord, art good and just, 
Thou gatherest in each pearly tear ; 
We bow before Thee in the dust. 
Commit to Thee, in childlike trust. 
The blank of this mysterious year. 



LINES 

TO THE MEMOKY OF ELLA MATILDA, DAUGHTER OF 
SAMUEL AND LIZZIE KLING. DIED JAN. 6, 1875. 



" Sing for me, mother," was the oft-repeated re- 
quest of the little sufferer, while her life was fast 
ebbing into eternity. 

Sing for me in softest measures 
Songs I loved in rosy health ; 

What to me are earthly pleasures ? 

What to me are earthly treasures? 
Give me music's heavenly wealth : 
Mother, sing for me. 

Sing for me : thy soothing numbers 
Woke and wooed the dawning soul 

From th' abysmal baby-slumbers ; 

Sing the last, while earth encumbers ; 

Heaven's hosannas nearer roll : 

Mother, sing for me. 



126 UNDER THE- WILLOWS. 

SiDg for me, let love entreat thee, 

Soon I'll touch the blissful bank; 
Last on earth let music meet me, 
First in Heav'n let music greet me; 
Earth becomes a misty blank : 
Mother, sing for me. 

Sing, while earth to earth is clinging, 
Angels soon shall sing for me ; 

-Lo ! I hear the whispered winging ; 

Lo ! I hear a distant singing, — 
Courier-waves of jubilee: 
Mother, sing for me. 

EPITAPH. / 

So rests the sweet young spirit's folded bloom, 

In peace, upon the father-heart of God ; 
So rests within thy bosom, faithful tomb, 

The germ, whose life shall burst the burial-sod. 



LINES 

To the memory of Mrs. Eva Catharine Keller, wlio died at Lan- 
caster, Pa., August 25, 1ST5, in tlie seventy-sixtii year of her age. 

"Two hands upon the breast, 
And labor's done." 

— Mulock. 

Folded in peaceful rest, 
Dear hands that long have toiled ! folded above 
The stillness deep of one devoted breast, 

That throbbed with holy love ! 

And weary feet, that well 
The devious paths of duty trod, are crossed. 
Safe moored, beyond life's faintest ripple-swell, 

No longer tempest-tossed. 

Thy bark has touched the shore ; 
A break thou'st left within the living rank. 
That earth, O sainted Mother, fills no more, — 

A silence and a blank. 



128 UNDER THE WILLOWS. 

Yet, oh, how sweet and true 
Th' immortal memory of the good and just! 
What amaranths of love shall sorrow strew, 

Above the sleeping dust? 

O life of beauteous worth ! 
Whose record dies not with dissolving powers ; 
Break, alabaster walls ! ye give but forth 

Sweet souls of heav'nly flowers ; — 

Fair flowers of noble deeds, 
That bloomed beside her lonely walks of life ; 
Men marked their fragrance not, but He that heeds 

Made sweet her generous strife. 

Spikenard of heav'nly grace 
She seemed, who chants by crystal river-banks; 
Her perfumed praise here fills each lonely place, 

And we that mourn give thanks. 

. That song and sweet refrain, 



MRS. EVA CATHARII^E KELLER. 129 

Which greets her, sing the ardent Seraphim ; 
That Hallelujah's far-returning strain, 
Respond the Cherubim. , 

And if with gloomy grief 
We mourn, we do her happy spirit wrong; — 
That rich, ripe fruit of God, — that golden sheaf, 

The angels stored with song. 

How fondly clings the heart 
To all the cherished scenes her life hath known ; 
They are the fadeless flowers, that bloom apart. 

And memory plucks alone. 

• We feel her presence still, — 
She liveth in the life of all good things ; — 
Wind-whispers make the heart's ^olian thrill 
And wake its thousand strings. 

Oft mark we unawares 



130 UNDER THE WILLOWS. 

A fair young form, a May-day blossom bright, 
That led the stranger up the steeple-stairs,* 
Edge all our clouds with light. 

As life grew many-y eared. 
Her early-orphaned heart but larger grew ; 
More beautiful that silent soul appeared, 

The nearer home she drew. 

On earth God's humble poor 
In her have lost a never-failing friend ; 
For never empty-handed from her door 

Did she the needy send. 

She ever made her own 
The orphan's righteous cause ; in Zion's home 
Her kindling beams of Christian kindness shone, 

That bade the stranpjer — " come." 



*In her chiMhoocl days she conducted many visitors up the 
steeple of Trinity Lutheran Church, at Lancaster, Pa. 



MRS. EVA CATHAKINE KELLER. 131 

How zealous for the truth ! 
How yearned her heart for those, who knew not 

God! 
How gently drew her hand neglected youth, 

Upon the heav'nly road ! ^ 

So lived an upright soul, 
Who strictly gave to Csesar Caesar's due. 
But unto God profusely God's. No scroll 

Of earthly fame e'er knew 

That hidden life in God. 
Her work is done : her spirit's folded bloom 
Now re-awakes on Heav'n's diviner sod, 

Beyond the silent tomb. 

Then fold her quiet hands, 
And smooth her patient locks of silver down, 
While Christ, beyond Oblivion's ocean-sands, 

Imparts th' unfading crown. 



THOUGHTS, 

On hearing the sad news of the death of Miss Ida Virginia Lin- 
ville, on Saturday evening, October 23d, 1875. These few humble 
flowers are now with reverence laid upon the grave of the silent 
sleeper, as a tribute to her memory, there to fade and perish. 

" Ah ! through how many different graves 
God's children go to him ! " 

How calmly, sadly sinks this autumn eve ! 
O day, thy sunset spent its last faint arrow: 
Subdued, as if thou too hadst known a sorrow, 

Thou seem'st with anguish riven hearts to grieve. 

Oh! tranquil eve, breathe thou a low "good-night," 
Sad eyes are wet with tears of love and pity ; 
And underneath the twilight's wing our city 

Has felt a sudden gloom o'ercloud its light. 

All-golden sped the day's resplendent race; 

And with that buoyant soul to make it brighter, 
Who felt no happy thrill, with heart made lighter, 

While doting on that hope-illumined face? 



THOUGHTS. 133 

Alas ! it ended not as it began : 

To-niglit I liear the sear leaves rustling sodward ; 
Sad hearts, grief-stricken, turn for comfort God- 
ward, 
And thoughts go inward, measuring life's short 
span. 

E'en now the autumn-glories fail and fall ; 

The heart that loved them can no longer cherish, 
Cold are the hands that gathered, so they perish, 

And storming winds shall scale each wood-land 
wall. 

We all do fade as autumn's tinted leaf; 

But this fair leaf — no signs of fading bore it. 
Till quickly came the blast of death and tore it 

From its parental branch, and left but grief. 

Ah! just abloom — the woman's full fair rose, 
With all youth's fresh-unfolded fragrance laden, 



134 UNDER THE WILLOWS. 

While graces sweet of childhood and the maiden, 
Like angels played round womanhood's repose. 

How many a heart to-night shall bleed for tliee, 
So calmly hushed in that deep, dreamless slumber, 
And tears that only God can know and number, 

Like gentle rain^drops fall in secrecy. 

A painful shudder runs from heart to heart. 
As news are brought, how by that fatal water, 
One parent-hearth has lost a lovely daughter, 

And many a friend with gentlest friend must part. 

" Beautiful leaves ! " neglected now ye wave. 
And weird wind-eddies of the north blow stronger; 
Oh ! gently spare them yet a little longer. 

Then sighing wreathe them round a new-made grave. 



AN EPITAPH, 

ENGRAVED ON THE TOMBSTONE OF A SAINTED 
MOTHER. 

Best ; — for thou hast loved and labored, 
Striven for the crown and won ; 

Rest in Jesus, faithful Mother, 
Till the night of earth is done. 



SOUI^BEEATHINGS. 



Vain seem the flights that reach not heav'n, 
And weak the songs not warbled round 
The gates of glory. Yearnings deep 
Within the human breast for light, — 
Reaching s for God within the dark, — 
Crave more than reason^ s flickering lamp : 
'Tis heaven-born melody best fits 
The sacred temple of the soul. 



THE GARDEN-TOMB OF GOLGOTHA. 

St. John XIX. 4i-42. 



SILENT EVE. 



I N t li e 

Twilight 

Lonely 

Looms an 

Empty cross to-night. 

Weeping angels flew 

From the dreary height; 

Shrinking Maries view 

From far 

The sight; 

Night -dews 

Weep the 

Scene in 

Silence; 

Sad and 

Low the 

Night-wind 

Whispers: 

"It is finished, 

It is finished!" 



140 SOUL-BREATHINGS. 

Amen! "It is finislied" — gently 

Lay Him in the rocky berth; 
Breathe, O heav'ns your benedictions 

O'er the slumber-lided earth ; 
Peace of God, with angel pinions, 

Hov'ring o'er the rugged crest, — 
Peace of God, enfold the Sleeper, 

In the Sabbath of His rest! 

Bring the linens, — myrrh and aloes. 

Richest offerings for the dead ; 
Where the God-man strove and conquered. 

Lay his weary limbs and head. 
Hard beside the crimsoned altar. 

Princely tomb, unfold thy breast ; 
Cherubim of God's Shechinah, 

Guard the Sabbath of His rest ! 

Hear ye not in trembling echoes, 
Hallelujahs, sweet and low? — 



THE GARDEN-TOMB OF GOLGOTHA. 141 

Sweet and low the Easter-prelude 
Blending with your chants of woe? 

iSTow begins Thy triumph, Victor! 
Grave, thou canst not Him molest ! 

Faintly dawns the Resurrection 
Through the Sabbath of His rest. 

EASTER MORN. 

" Come, see the place where the Lord lay." 

*'He is not here," the glorious Prince of life, 

Come, see the couch where late the Conqueror lay, 

In peaceful rest, from bitter toil and strife, 

Till herald-streaks of dawn proclaimed the day. 

O night of anguish, — sad sepulchral shade ! 

How bright a day was born from out your gloom ; 
How flash the gurgling rills thro' mead and glade, 

That burst the bands of winter's icy tomb. 

All nature wakes to beauteous life with Thee, 



142 SOUL-BREATHINGS. 

Thou Sun and Lord of each created sphere ; 
Hail, happy beams ! that make the shadows flee, 
And brush away the valley-mists of care. 

Hail, happy beams! that leap the eastern hills, 
And clear the clouded peaks of faith, or slope, 

Swift-footed courier-gleams, whose message fills. 
In many a soul, the empty void of hope. 

He needs them not, your spices sweet and rare : 
He lives, — go, swell the angels' jubilee! — 

Go, meet Him, as triumphant palms ye bear, 
Beside the ripple-crested Galilee. 

Before the early rose of dawn had bloomed 

There came an earthward rush of wings to-day ; 

The stone was rolled, earth shook, and hell was 
doomed : 
Come, see the empty tomb where Jesus lay. 



ONLY ONE. 

"What is thy only comfort in life and death?" 

— Heidelberg Catechism. 

O RESTLESS soul forever on the wing, 

In quest of some enchanting clime, 
Where thou wouldst build thy earthly rest and cling 

To unsubstantial things of time! 

There's One who paid the ransom -price of love, 
That he might win thee for his own ; 

There's One, though far in cloudless climes above. 
So near, who claims thee all alone. 

There's only One on whom thou canst rely. 
When powers of darkness shake thy trust; 

There's only One whose love doth sanctify 
Affliction's rod, benign and just. 



144 - SOUL-BREATHINGS. 

O Jesus, Refuge from this stormy sea, 
Sure Anchorage in life's unrest ; 

Unto the haven of thy breast I flee, 
And there lay all my doubts to rest. 



HOME MISSION HYMN. 

O DAY of Christ, arise and shine ! 

Awake with Thee thy slumb'riug Bride, 
That, clothed in beams of truth divine. 

Her voice proclaim the Crucified. 

With ripened waves of golden wheat 
The harvest-fields of earth are white ; — 

O Zion, hear what hosts entreat! — 

Go, make them garnered sheaves of light. 

Benighted nations knock and wait, 
For light and truth, before the door; 

And they who stood in Zion's gate 
In homes beyond the deep, implore. 

For heav'nly bread Thy children call, 
O Father of the fainting give ; 



146 SOUL-BREATHINGS. 

And make the Gospel manna fall, 

That famished souls may eat and live. 

Sweet manna of the Saviour's name, 
Bedew the dreary wastes of earth ; 
Thou royal food that angels claim, 
~ O fill the soul's immortal dearth. 

Till breaths of heav'n's diviner air 
Upon each waiting soul shall blow. 

And bring the sweets of answered prayer, 
Which only Christ's beloved know. 

Till all the gathered tribes of God 
The kingly courts of Salem fill ; — 

With palms and song shall take the road. 
That leads to lion's heav'nly hill. 

Till all the jewels of love Divine 

Shall sparkle in the Saviour's crown. 

And Christ's eternal day shall shine, 

Where still the powers of darkness frown, 



SUNDAY EVENING SONG OF PRAISE. 

WRITTEN TO MUSIC. 
I. 

Saviour, when the sacred day, 
Slumber-laden, sinks away, — 
When devotion's song we raise, 
Tune the heart to sing Thy praise. 
Come, with sweet, sabbatic peace, 
Bid the earthly tumult cease ; 
Fill each soul with Heav'nly light, 
While the earth is veiled in night. 
Wake, oh ! wake, my soul and sing, 

While the peaceful moments close ; 
AVake, oh ! wake, my soul and bring 

Praises, ere we seek repose. 

II. 
Praise immortal fill each breast, 



148 SOUL-BREATHINGS. 

For the sacred day of rest ; 
For the bread that God has given ; 
For the royal wine of Heav'n. 
Praise, immortal praise from all, 
While the dews of mercy fall ; 
While the Saviour calls his flocks ; 
While the Spirit gently knocks. 
Wake, oh ! wake, my soul and sing, 

While the peaceful moments close; 
Wake, oh! wake, my soul and bring 

Praises, ere we seek repose. 



JESUS, THE GLORIFIED. 

WORDS WRITTEN TO MUSIC, FOR THE COLLEGE 
CHOIR. 

"I leave the world and go to the Father."— St. John, xvi., 28. 



I. 

Cloud-folds of glorious light enfold Thee, 
And hallelujahs greet Thee home; 

Hosannas on the way uphold Thee, 
And like a flash through heavens dome, 

On archangelic wings of snow, 

The tidings of thy coming go. 

II. 

Good Shepherd, wilt Thou leave unshielded, 

In this low vale Thy little flock?— 
To Thee the doors of death have yielded. 



150 SOUL-BREATHINGS. 

Thou art become the mighty Rock ; 
Leave'st Thou thine orphaned ones in night, 
While thou art gone to reign in light? 

Trembling fold, thy cause is mine; 
Trembling fold, my glory's thine, — 

Parting briugs us doubly near. 
Father, shield them. Thine they are; 
Father, shield them, — what can mar 

Their perfect peace, 

With Heav'n so near? 



"WE WOULD SEE JESUS." 

ST. JOHN, XII., 21. 

We would see Jesus, 
The spotless Lamb of God ; 
We would see Jesus, 
The heav'nly Guest that trod 
The thorny paths of earth, — 
The golden streets of Heaven. 
Show us the stony manger, 
Reveal his wondrous birth ; 
Show us the sweet Babe-Saviour, 
Show us the Christ of God. 

We would see Jesus, 
The tender plant of love; 

We would see Jesus, 
As angels see above. 
Bring us to Nazareth, 



152 SOUL-BREATHINGS. 

Show us til 3 woDclroiis Youlli; 
Show us the pur % white Lily 
Among the weeds of siu; 
Show us the Woi J iucarnate, 
Show us the Christ of God. 

We would see Jesus, 
The generous, calm and lowly; 

We w^ould see Jesus, 
The peerless, pure and holy. 
Show us the gentle Shepherd, 
Feeding the fold of God, 
In whom all virtues centre. 
In whom the rays all meet 
Of sacred song and story : 
Show us the Christ of God. 

We would see Jesus, 

High-priest of God to man ; 

We would see Jesus, 



1 



WE WOULD SEE JESUS. 153 

The Paschal Offering slain. 
Lead us to Calvary's mountain, 
Reveal the wondrous Cross ; 

Show us the suffering Saviour, 

The pale, sweet face in death; 
Show us the love of Heaven, 
Show us the Christ of God. 

We would see Jesus, 
The First-born from the dead; 

We would see Jesus, 
Our ever-living Head. 
Show us the empty tomb, 
Show us the Prince of life; 
Lead us to Olivet, 
Show us the Victor's triumph, — 
The King His throne ascending. 
Show us the Christ of God. 

We would see Jesus, 



154 SOUL-BREATHINGS. 

Him all, and Him alone; 

We would see Jesus, 
On earth and on the throne,-— 
The Blessed One incarnate. 
The Blessed One in glory: 
No life has such a beauty, 
No scene such heav'nly charm; 
Show us the all of Jesus, 
Show us the Christ of God. 



THE SPIKITUAL TEMPLE. 

A FRAGMENT. 

An unseen, holy temple grows to Heav'n, 

Not reared by human hands or skill ; 
To raze it mightiest foes have madly striv'n : 

It grows in strength and beauty still. 
Its firm foundations rest upon a Kock, 

Whereon the angry tides of time 
Have vainly spent each oft-repeated shock, 

Yet, baffled, left it more sublime. 

And precious stones, from every nation brought 
By them that help at Zion's wall. 

Are by a Heav'nly workmanship inwrought, — 
On Christ, the corner-stone of all. 



HOLY! HOLY! HOLY! 

A LENTEN MEDITATION. 

How shall a trembling creature of the dust, 

Thrice Holy One, 
Approach Thine awful, searching sanctity, 

Thrice Holy One, 
And bear Thy veilless, all-consuming glance. 

Thrice Holy One? 

With garments soiled, and sin-polluted hands, 

Thrice Holy One, 
And weary with the load of guilt and shame. 

Thrice Holy One, 
Before Thy mercy's gate we stand and knock, 

Thrice Holy One. 

From out these wintery sorrows of the soul. 

Thrice Holy One, 
Bring forth the spring-tide bloom of beauteous life, 

Thrice Holy One ; 



holy! holy! holy! 157 

Oh ! make the lifeless branches bud and bear, 
Thrice Holy One. 



Look to the 

Cross of the 

Crucified One! 

Dawn o'er the 

Darkness of 

Ages awaketh; 
Long have they looked for the glorious sun, 
Sighed for the promise of heavenly light. 
Lo ! in the rose-tinted East for thee breaketh. 
Sorrowing soul, as the day from the night, 
Heaven's last hope for the hopeless and dying. 
Hie to the summit of Calvary's height! 

Mount of all 

Mountains the 

Holi est, lying 

'Twixt Heaven's 

Bright portals. 

Sinner, and thee. 

There shall the 

Burdens that 

Weary be lifted; 

There shall the 

Sin-bearing 

Lamb set us free; 

Thenwitha 

Sweet and a 

Holy song gifted, 

Homeward we press with a will ; 

For the one highway to Paradise still 

Passes o'er Golgotha's holiest hill. 



SONNETS. 



I. 

SOUL-BEAUTY. 

When, like a sturdy-hearted ship, I chance 
To see some nobly-beauteous life glide on, 
Not by vain glory's bloated canvas blown, 

Or wind-propelling power of circumstance ; 

But with the tempest-fronting countenance, 

Warm throbbings of a mighty heart, and 'lone 
Upon the wrecking waves of passion thrown, 

Yet proof against their power, with sure advance, 

Unswerving, toward the haven of its rest : 
Then stands my soul in reverential awe 

Before that form divine, within whose breast 
Eepose the Godlike powers, whose beauteous law 

Brings thoughts of many a gift, that buried lies, 

Till sorrow drops from eaves of drooping eyes. 



II. 

TO "DAISY," 

ON HER TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY, MAY 31, 1875. 

Sweet day, that gave my darling flower birth, 
I hail thee with a snatch of tender rhymes; 
Sweet May, thou'st wrought for one-and-twenty 
times. 

To crown me with the dearest flow'r on earth. 

Yet sadly falls this golden day of days, 

With many a league betwixt me and the bower, 
Where blooms, in virgin grace, my Eden-flower, 

That opens but to one sun's truthful rays : 

Turn hither, then, thy sweet, confiding glance, 
My love shall be thy never-setting sun ; 

From every false intruder's bold advance. 
Fold up thy maiden-bloom, and wisely shun 

Each nightly shadow, wheeled 'twixt thee and me, 

Till time and distance meet in Heav'n's decree. 



III. 

AUTUMNAL SPLENDOKS. 

The dainty footsteps of the fairy morn 

Bestrode the emerald bridge of summer-leaves, 
Whose sunlight-darkened depth of green receives 

The print of rosy feet. O world, newborn ! 

And wrapped in royal splendors, that adorn 
Some princely pagan of the East, how heaves 
Thy bosom with a dreamy slumber ; eaves 

Of bright carnelian slopes let fall, forlorn. 

Their fiery raindrops, singly and in showers : 
Thus comes the mystic painter year by year, 

And changes all the continental bowers, 

Where, underneath those fretted roofs, appear 

The congregations of the rustic crow, 

To keep a brief, bright holiday, and go. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



A MISSOURI HOMESTEAD. 

A SWEET, long dimple, kissed by sun and shower, 
Peace-charmed and pressed into the cheek of 
earth, — 

A lawn of emerald beauty, hour by hour 
Evoking joy and happy-hearted mirth: 

Thus, nestling 'twixt two guardian hillocks, lies 

The image of a long-lost Paradise. 

If Peace and calm Contentment have a home, 
And Care a cleft to fold its wearied wing, 

'Tis here, o'ercanopied by heav'n's high dome; — 
'Tis here, where summer-woven carpets spring. 

And 'mid the vast expanse of velvet lawn. 

Smiles forth a home, from want and woe withdrawn. 

So stately-graceful, winning straight the eye. 
Without the haughty air of feudal hall. 



166 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

This home, where Comfort holds a rich supply, 

A standing invitation seems to all, — 
A hive of hoarded sweets, unselfish stored. 
O'er which kind heav'n its horn of plenty poured. 

Here housed amid the grand, ancestral grove. 
Whose whisper-haunted shades protect the rear. 

The petted squirrels free and fearless rove. 
Through all the golden summer of the year ; 

Till here, on mossy-breasted trunk and tree. 

Existence seems an endless jubilee. 

And when the dropping nuts of Autumn-bowers 
Have ceased their pattering through the painted 
leaves; — . 

When Nature wears her jewels and snowy flowers. 
And fairy frost-works fringe the pointed eaves. 

These chiding tenants of the grove command^ 

The bounties of a generous heart and hand. 



A MISSOURI HOMESTEAD. 167 

Nor these alone, whose merry-making voice 
Has all the ring of joy, are happy here: 

These are th' abodes of gladness; here rejoice 
The happy-mated birds from year to year ; 

Each leafy nook and shaded haunt is given. 

To choose their bridal-bower, and build their 
heaven. 

Here, while the baby-dawn, with dimpled feet, 
Begins to walk with faint and faltering steps. 

Upon the topmost branches, soft and sweet, 

Ere stirs the housewife bee from sunward skeps, 

The little wood-bird's soul awakes and sings. 

Shaking the dewy slumber from its wings. 

And while o'er slumber-folded flowers is drawn 
The twilight's gauze of tender-shaded gray. 

There flutters, like the low love-note of dawn. 
Within its downy breast, an evening-lay: 

Oh, fit finale given to love's full nest! — 

Thus home's cantata end — in song and rest. 



168 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

But Nature stays a willful, wayward child, 
Untutored by a wise and noble mind ; 

A skillful hand must prune the rampant wild, 
And know th' impulsive powers of soil to bind ; — 

Adopt to lordly oak and lady beech 

The rustic apple and domestic peach. 

The buttercups in golden chalice catch the sun. 
And laughing drink the milk of Mother Earth, 

Nor crave the care of man, while seasons run, 
Nor cheer with ruddy fruit the homely hearth ; 

But ere we tumble down the mellow pears, 

The youthful sapling needs our toils and cares. 

Behold the brotherhood of fruitful trees. 

That round this rural home by hundreds run ! 

The rounded, ripened truth, whoever sees. 

Shall backward reason, till his mind have won 

The nursling premise, planted here and there. 

That needs no proof of generous-hearted care. 



A MISSOURI HOMESTEAD. 169 

Calm-cadenced as the rolling spheres of heaven, 
How many a voice here utters silent praise ! — 

Soft praise to Him, who first has freely given; 
And praise to thee, our noble host, they raise, 

Who'rt Nature's priest, 'mid reverent-looking herds, 

And myriad-hymning throats of sinless birds. 

And we, who tasted of thy bounteous cheer, — 
Thy brimming nectar-bowls of berries drained, 

That wooed from brambly wildernesses here; 
And drank the jubilate, heav'n-ordained. 

That from thy templed grove harmonious rang, 

As bird and bee and insect sweetly sang, — 

Ah ! we, thy guests, have nought but limping verse 
To marshal and parade before thy ken ; — 

And lean, wild fancies, shadow-fed and coarse, 
To banquet one of Nature's noblemen; 

Yet given in truth and Friendship's holy trust. 

Oh ! deign to feast in faith upon a crust. 



170 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Ah ! sweet, lone dimple, kissed by sun and shower. 
Peace-charmed and pressed into the cheek of 
earth, — 

Bright lawn of emerald beauty ! hour by hour 
Evoking joy and happy-hearted mirth; 

Reluctant, 'twixt thy guardian hills and skies 

We leave thy scenes, O long-lost Paradise. 



AN AFTER-CALL. 

TO MY RESPECTED FRIEND JAMES F. DOWNEY, 

EDITOR OF THE LOUISIANA JOURNAL, ON HIS 

REMOVAL FROM LANCASTER, PA., TO THE 

WEST. 

Like one, who climbs the nearest knoll. 

With one more word or token — 
One kindly wish upon his soul. 

That still was left unspoken, — 
With farewell-waving hand in view. 
And shouts : " Adieu, my friend, adieu ! " 

E'en thus upon his native height 

Of song and meditation, 
To plume the spirit's keener sight, 

And pour his soul's libation, 
A singer stands and sighs " adieu," 
But sighs it to the distant blue. 



172 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Why wakes each westward-puffing train 

The minor chords of sadness — 
The echo of an unknown pain, 

That mocks the keys of gladness ? — 
Leaves in my soul a vague unrest, 
That spurns my thoughts on toward the west ? 

I walk amid the moving crowds, 

That throng thy native city ; 
I mark the sunbeams pierce the clouds, 

And hear the snow-birds' ditty ; 
Familiar faces hurry past, — 
All moves, as thou hast seen it last. 

But if I've caught th' unuttered sense, 

(And give it true expression,) 
Of all the wordless eloquence. 

That round me breathes confession. 
The aggregate of cloud and shine, 
Free bird, and " human face divine," 



AN AFTER-CALL. 173 

Betrays, as one low-voiced refrain 

My soul's lone dei^tli is haunting, 
That in our city's family-chain 

One living link is wanting ; 
And fewer now her noble few. 
Her generous-hearted, good and true. 

One brow's perpetual sunniness 

We miss from morn till even ; 
We miss one hand's warm heartiness, 

To all svas freely given ; 
We miss a man — not made impure 
By greeting both the rich and poor. 

The student, in his beaten track 

And daily tread-mill motion, 
Or friendless, like a drifting wrack, 

Upon some treacherous ocean. 
Whom thou hast oft befriended, cheered, 
Doth miss thee, whom his heart revered. 



174 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

^ Thou'rt missed by tliine aspiring band 
Of blooming youths and maidens ; 
From rude, uncultured slang, thy hand. 

To manhood's measured cadence. 
These young debaters nobly led, 
And bettered them in heart and head. 

And on the sacred day of rest. 

In school and congregation, 
AVhere love-illumined brows seem best, 

We miss thee' from thy station ; 
The living teacher's living thought 
We miss, — the living teacher taught. 

Thou'rt gone. The grand sidereal march 
Of progress, westward tending. 

Beyond the far horizon' arch 
That o'er my visions' bending, 

Drew forth thy keen, undaunted soul. 

Like moon-drawn tides beyond control. 



AN AFTER-CALL. 175 

Ye're gone. From eaves of drooping eyes 

Has soiTOAV dropped at parting, 
And through dark-curtained night have sighs 

And winged prayers been darting, 
E'en faster than your train has flown, 
That Heav'n might bear you safely on. 

Ye're gone, — as sunset glories part, 

Withdrawn by rosy fingers ; 
Yet love-embalmed, in many a heart, 

Your treasured mem'ry lingers ; 
For friendship's golden ties, God-given, 
Bind East to West, and earth to Heav'n. 
1875. 



"VOX HUMANA." 

ThotigTits suggested while listening to the singing of Miss Liz- 
zie Apple, Sunday morning, November 8th, 18T4. 

Oh, exquisite expression ! sounds 

That have a soul and speak ; 
Deep undertones of heavenly birth- — 
Heaven's wandering echoes lost on earth — 

Nay, treasured as they break 
Upon the soul's immortal bounds ! 

Within this templed stillness — ^hush 

Of sweet, sabbatic peace — 
Full, rich and rounded swell and roll, 
With unction of an earnest soul, 

And calm, melodious ease, 
Such strains as from pure fountains gush. 

We hail them. Purer grows our sky ; 
Serener heights are seen 



vox HUMANA. 177 

Above the morning-mists of earth, 
And cravings of a soul in dearth 

Grow strong and relish keen 
For Heav'n's diviner food brought nigh. 

Seed-thoughts, perchance, that germinate 

In many a fruitful mind. 
Ne'er sprang from leisure-loving brains ; 
The fair idea's born with pains, 

And lives to move mankind — 
Neglected genius ne'er was great. 

We praise the sculptor's chisled thought. 

The glorious gift of song, 
The poet's language of the heart. 
And elocution's noble art, 

Nor dream that these belong 
To things, that patient toil has wrought. 

What gifts are thine, immortal breath ! 
O, human voice divine? 



178 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

What possibilities and powers 
Implanted in tliese tongues of ours, 

To praise, to bless, refine, 
And not to slay a soul to death ? 

Lo ! who shall lead the choirs above, 
The choirs of faultless song ? 

Oh ! when that new song shall we sing — 

That new song to the Lamb, our King ? 
When shall each tuneless tongue 

Accord with lyres of heav'nly love ? 



LIlSrGERING ECHOES. 

This loose ["bouquet of a few random-chosen flowers, hastily 
gathered here and there along the garden-walks of memory, is 
respectfully dedicated to the Excelsior Litera^'y Society, of Pala- 
tinate College, Myerstown, Pa., Lnd humbly offered by the 
author, in commemoration of their first reunion, Dec. 23, 1874. 

Again I see the setting of an August sun, 
And sporting insects break the level beams ; 
Again half dream the scul-inspiring dreams 

I dreamt that nightfall, when the day was done. 

Again I quit the world's commotions loud. 
And hie me to these halls of learned lore ; 
Again drop anchor by this friendly shore, 

Beyond the tumult of th' ignoble crowd. 

Again I see JBouleuo, prudent dame, 

A stranger at my mem'ry's threshold stand, 
And lead the sweet, young Amo[hj the hand, 

First love of every student worth the name. 



180 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Again on Fancy's fitful wing I soar, 

And doubtful flutt'ring make in empty air ; 
Again we grasp and forth in triumph bear, 

The youthful standard of Excelsior. 

Oh ! mighty stirrings in the younger breast, 
That strive to make us men before we are, 
And blindly goad us on from star to star, 

Where are ye ? — have ye found precarious rest ? 

Again we set the summer-blooms of yore, 
And plant the Norway evergreen in May, 
And, tending, watch, as twilight wears away. 

Their still, prophetic growth from more to more. 

Lo ! scattered lies the many-folded rose. 

And dead are all the summer-sweets we knew ; 
How scant the pearly-beaded drops of dew, 

That brimmed the full-blown hopes ere morning's 
close 1 



LINGERING ECHOES. 181 

Ere morning's close, before the growing day 
Had drained each lily-molded chalice dry ; 
Now drooping underneath the noonday sky, 

We languish for life's lovely morn of May. 

Yet broken waves of sound come thick and fast, 
That once have charmed and moved us much ; 
The heart's ^olian feels the kissing touch 

Of breathing zephyrs, blowing from the past. 

Ye linger in the halls of mem'ry still. 
Oh, distant, dying echoes, never dead ! 
Conjuring sounds and faces that have fled. 

This day to re-unite on College Hill. 



OCTOBEE-DKEAMS OF SUMMER. 

As the gem remembers sunlight, 
Hidden from the glorious day ; 

So the hoarded beams of summer, 
Tn my soul begin to play. 

Summer, golden summer everywhere ! 
Summer in the solitude of woodlands, deep and 

still ; 
Summer running barefoot up the sun-illumined 

hill, 
Summer on the ripple-crested lake and laughing 
rill ; 
Summer, golden summer everywhere ! 

Summer, joyous summer in the air ! 
Summer in the myriad-hymning throats of sinless 
birds ; 



OCTOBER-DREAMS OF SUMMER. 183 

Summer-song 'neath insect-wings, in lowing of the 

herds ; 
Summer in the merry-cadenced ring of human 

words ; 
Summer, joyous summer in the air ! 

Summer for the creatures of God's care ! 
Summer-kisses for the dimpled cheek of every 

rose ; 
Summer-calm for every leaf, that in the sunlight 

glows ; 
Summer-bliss for blossomed wings, that on the 
flow'rets doze ; 
Summer for the creatures of God's care! 

Summer for the creatures of despair ! 
Summer for the crimson crop of clover-blossoms 

sweet ; 
Summer for the rip'ning of the thousand waves of 

wheat ; 



184 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Summer that the fearful farmer may have bread 
to eat ; 
Summer for the creatures of despair ! 

Summer, golden summer all the year ! 
Summer in my soul when Autumn-winds begin to 

blow; 
Summer-dreams when moaning winter -nights give 
birth to snow ; 
Summer, golden summer all the year ! 

Ever in the dreariest weathers, 
Mocked by beauty's sad decay, 
' Keep, my soul, a gorgeous vision 
Of a golden summer-day. 



THE MYSTIC PAINTER. 

Yearly comes a mystic painter, 

Painting all the woodland halls, 
From Atlantic's briny border, 

Westward over mountain-walls. 
E'en to where in giant slumber 

Heaves the broad Pacific's breast ; 
Many a tender leaflet trembles. 

Blushing rosy as the West. 

Now he dips his brush in sunset ; 

Now in saffrcn tints of dawn ; 
Now in soft auroral glintings, 

Flooding midnight's lavender lawn 
Till the templed roofs are fretted, 

Pillared with the knotted oak ; 
Till the walls of sloping woodlands 

Bear the final master-stroke. 



186 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

O, beloved land of freedom ! 

Boyal households, peers and pow'rs, 
Hast thou none to make thee vassal, 

Save thy glorious autumn-bo w'rs ! 
Kingly oaks arrayed in purples, 

Queenly maples crowned with gold, 
Princely gums, with crimson togas. 

Hanging gorgeous fold on fold. 

And the birch with light-brown tresses, 

Slender, lady-like and tall, 
Such as graced the ivied castle 

And the ancient knightly hall : 
These, and these alone, we boast of. 

Fatherland of Liberty ! 
These, and these alone, we justly 

Name the peerage of the free. 

Nobly hast thou wrought thy purpose. 
Bearer of the magic brush ! 



THE MYSTIC PAINTER. 187 

Then with noiseless footsteps parted 

From the sylvan's shaded hush ; 
Comes another southward, prowling, 

Like a wolf upon the flock. 
Snatching every tim'rous leaflet, 

Hurls it earthward with a mock. 



CHIQUES EOCK. 

Long upon the topmost ledges, 
Crags and edges, 
Lingered I one dreamy day ; 
While the sadness of the season 
Numbed my reason, 
Wrapt and bore my soul away. 

All along that stately river, 
Sunned forever 
By the smiles of neighboring hills, 
Slept the silence of October, 
Breathless, sober, 
'Mid the hum of human wills. 

Dimpling, as in sunny laughter, 
Ripplets after 
Ripplets, kissing, seaward slide ; 



CHIQUES ROCK. 189 

While a face here, through all stages, 
Gazed for ages 
On the progress of the tide. 

Dwellers in the valley yonder, 
While I ponder. 
Are ye careless of the sight ? 
Seek ye scenes beyond th' Atlantic 
More romantic, — 
Switzer Alp, or Highland height ? 

Long the veteran bluff caressing. 
Lay I guessing 
At the language of the rocks ; — 
Speak, thou giant son primeval, 
What upheaval 
Kaised thee 'mid the mighty shocks ? 

Art thou of that age heroic — 
Paleozoic — 



190 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

When our border-range was born 
Canst recall the dread commotions, 
Fiery oceans, 
Heaving on creation's morn ? 



Polyphemus ! noble-breasted, 
Moss-invested, 
Dare I guess the fabled truth ? 
Woo'st thou yonder Galatea, 
Fair idea. 
Smiling in eternal youth ? 

"Woo no longer coldly clever. 
By thee never 
Shall the maiden nymph be won,- 
Fair, wild maiden, Susquehanna ! 
Strange arcana 
Hid'st thou o' many a rural son. 



CHIQUSS KOCK. 191 

Long upon thy topmost ledges, 
Crags and edges, 
Lingered I that dreamy day ; — • 
Lay at leisure, leaning o'er thee, 
.Where before me 
Oft the Indian hunter lay. 



NOVEMBER SEVENTH. 

One day more of Indian summer, one day more 

of sunny balm. 
Ere the bitter, biting north-wind breaks the 

dreamy slumber's calm. 

One day more for silvery locks and tott'ring 

limbs of age to court 
Kindly kisses of the air, and sunbeams in their 

fairy sport. 

Though no longer whitened waves, upon the silver- 
maple's crown, 

Ripple into silence, and from silence into frothy 
down ; 

Though the half-unfolded rose has perished on the 
thorny stem, 



NOVEMBER SEVENTH. 193 

And the distant autumn-woods have lost their 
glorious diadem ; 

Yet I love the sober smiles and farewells of the 

golden year — 
Bid him sad "good-bye" to-day— to-morrow, shall 

we find him h^re ? 



SNOW-FLAKES. 

How softly falls the winter snow ! — 
One flake and then another, 

And then a doubtful score or so 
Come trembling down together. 

And still the fleecy whiteness falls 
With ampler shades of meaning ; 

The harvest-field of heav'n forestalls 
Not earth's abundant gleaning. 

I look across the farmer's fields, 
And o'er the dimpled valleys ; 

O'er woods that lost their leafy shields, 
And down the streets and alleys. 

And everywhere, in pairs unwed, 
Or noiseless avalanches. 



SNOW-FLAKES. 195 

A shower of blossom-snows is shed 

From heav'ns wide-spreading branches'. 

How purely Avhite, how deftly wrought, 

These coy and starry crystals I 
Post-paid to earth, with wisdoni fraught. 

They come as heav'n's epistles. 

A Mother's myths, how pleasing strange !— 
Child-faith would understand her, 

That o'er the murky mountain-range 
They plucked the goose and gander. 

And oft as feathery flakes I'd see, 
They seemed like Pity's preachers, 

And roused a righteous wrath, to free 
The downy-breasted creatures. 

All night the flitting snow-stars fell— 

The morning wakes in glory ; 
The snow-enshrouded village-bell. 

Proclaims its mufiled story. 



196 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Two feet their wonted walls below, 
Smile forth the crystal fountains ; 

Two feet of pure, untrodden snow 
Is piled upon the mountains. 

Two feet, the farmer's wagon-shed. 
Barn-roof and house encumbers ; 

Two feet beneath its feather-bed 
The baby-harvest slumbers. 

Lo ! He that giveth snow like wool. 
And shames faint-hearted reason, 

Perfection lends the beautiful — 
A charm to every season. 



ANOTHEK YEAK. 

Another year is coffined and entombed 
In deep, oblivious silence of the past ; 
Another year, with fresh hopes budding fast, 

Crowds forth to bloom where late the dead one 
bloomed. 

Another year has left a silence on the floor, 
As some dear friend, forever taken leave ; 
Another year, a welcome to receive. 

Now stands a youthful stranger 'neath the door. 

Another year, with sunshine, rain and dew. 
Hath kissed the happy flow'rets into bloom ; 
Another year steps up and sees the gloom. 

His plastic hand must touch to life anew. 

Another year has given the sower seed. 
And to the eater bread, that he mav eat ; 



198 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Another year shall take the royal seat, 
A Joseph to dispense to them that need. 

Another year, with good intentions fraught. 
Has launched upon the boundless nevermore ; 
Another year, like many a one before. 

Begins with godless ''wills" that come to naught. 

Another year has brimmeti the cup of bliss 
With precious human love and love divine ; 
Another year shall pour this noble wine, — 

But who a heavenly Father's hand shall kiss ? 

Another year, by many a homestead door. 
Has seen an added flow'r of love unfold ; 
Another year a form all pale and cold 

Shall find, — a silenced foot-fall on the floor.. 

Another year, my God, at thy command 

The tottering nations went their destined w^ay ; 
Another year, my God, I calmly lay 

My cares on thee, and take thy guiding hand. 



THE SLEEPING LILY. 

Sunken into sweet, angelic slumber, gone to dream 

of Heaven ! 
So the eyelids close of daisies, heavy with the 

dews of even. 

Ripple-waves of golden tresses, left with summer- 
winds at play, 

Bathed her father's fondly-heaving bosom, where 
she pillowed lay. 

Sweetest little daughter, that a huiiian eye could 

look upon ! 
Surely, w^hile that lily slumbered, angels, too, 

were looking on. 

While she dreamt her Eden-dreams of innocence 

and love's embrace, 
I, with soul enraptured, dreamt about the heaven 

of her face. 



200 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Can it be, that sin and sorrow e'er should mar that 

angel-brow ? 
Can it be, that cold neglect should blight the 

hopes that blossom now ? 

Give it love's pure sunlight, ye that claim the 

heavenly charge from birth ; 
Give the race a perfect lily — help to cheer the 

dreary earth. 

With the lovely sleeper's waking, woke each 

beauty-budding ray ; . 
Fairer for the rosy setting, smiles the newly-risen 

day. 



FLIKTATION. 

Thou misbegotten mirth of wanton hearts ! 

Delusive sweet wherein a poison lurks ! 
Vain, thoughtless trick, that sharpens cruel darts ! 

Thou folly, fit for Satan and the Turks ! 

Whoe'er the wretched social code has framed, 
Whereby the dainty 'kerchief's made a slave, 

And unsuspecting youth entrapped, inflamed. 
Him Virtue brands " Corrupter and a knave." 

A precious hoop of gold, that tells she's loved. 
May round a lady's first fair finger run ; — 

The lily-molded left stays closely gloved, — 
The freedom-loving right may have its fun. 

From out the windows of the soul of him 



202 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Whose love is pledged, yet hankers still to roam, 
Two youngsters wink and ogle at their whim 
At fairy strangers : Love is not at home. 

Bah ! put the pupils of the wayward eyes 
To strict monastic schools, before they stray, 

And with two other pupils compromise, 

Whose mischief puts to blush the light of day. 



THE HEADLESS GRASSHOPPER * 

Poor, helpless creature, thou hast seen 

Sad days in thy short life ; 
What fierce misfortune has there been, 

'Mid earth's unending strife, 
That to such sad results has led, 
And left thee hop without a head ? 

Didst thou oppose that snarling thing, 

The reaper's noisy shears, 
That clipped thee of thy crown, thou king 

Of old historic peers ? — 
Has modern haste for pelf and bread 
Doomed thee to hop without a head ? 

Poor thing, I can but pity thee, 



*These lines were suggested, and partly composed, on seeing a 
death-defying grasshopper, minus his head, leap boldly upon the 
handle of my rake, while working on the harvest-fleld in the 
summer of 1814. 



204 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

As Burns tli' immortal mouse ; 
Could he but mark thy misery, 

With neither head nor house, 
He'd better sing the day of dread. 
That saw thee hop without a head. 

I can but pity thee, not kill 

That vital energy, — 
That remnant of thyself, which still 

Performs its part for thee ; 
Some men with heads not surer tread, 
Than thou dost hop without a head. 

But I must go to bear the heat, 
And thou lie down to die ; 

Thy brother-hoppers thus shall meet 
Thy fate, too, by and by ; 

And I, when summer-days have fled. 

Must see the hop without a head. 



VERSES, 

WRITTEN FOR A PHOTOGRAPH ALBUM.* 

While rolling years go on and on, 
And friendships bloom and perish ; 

While hopes awake, like summer-dawn, 
And darken while Ave cherish ; 

Still by this gift, a Father's love, 
My heart shall prove. 
While rolling years go on. 

While rolling years go on and on. 
And selfish love I've tasted ; 

Or mine, like sunny waves upon 
The thankless sea-sand's wasted ; 

Still by this gift, a Mother's love. 
My heart shall prove, 
While rolling years go on. 



*A gift from Father and Mother, to their daughter Annie, 
Christmas, 1874. 



206 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

While rolling years go on and on, 
And dear, familiar faces 

Shall all the treasured one by one, 
Within these empty spaces ; 

Yet most a link of filial love, 
This gift shall prove. 
While rolling years go on. 



AN ACROSTia 

WRITTEN FOR AN AUTOGRAPH ALBUM. 

Sister, cultivate an inward beauty: 

As thy soul, tliy body's light shall be; 

Let the law of love be guide to duty, 

Live a life as for eternity. 

In thy spirit's depth the fount of sequence lies,- 

Either sweet or bitter streams must thence arise. 



EOMEO TO JULIET. 

'Nur Liebe darf der Liebe Blumen brecben." 

— Schiller. 

One year ago, — a loving " yes ;" 
A brimming cup of mutual bliss ; 

The truthful pledge to love and bless ; 
The sealing with the first sweet kiss ! 

One sweet, short year ; — and yet how long ! 

When wedded souls must wait and sigh. 
Till union, Heav'n-ordained and strong, 

Be theirs, by Wedlock's golden tie. 

One year two hearts have throbbed as one. 
Two souls had sight of Fairy-land ; 

Heart spoke to heart, when speech was done, 
In silent pressures of the hand. 



ROMEO TO JULIET. 209 

We've guarded well, with lovers' art, 
One sacred shriiie, where souls are wed ; 

Upon two altars of the heart, 

One Heav'n-born fire of love was fed. 

Oh ! say again that thou art mine, 

Though oft, my Love, thou'st told me so, 

And make me feel that thrill divine, 
My soul has felt — one year ago. 



THE TOKEN. 

Only a rose-bud, crushed and sear, 
One summer evening broken : 

Full forty years liis faithful tears 
Embalmed the sacred token. 

Only a rose-bud, crushed and sear, 
With pale-blue ribbon banded : 

Full forty years the maiden sleeps, 
That once the rose-bud handed. 



AN ACROSTIC. 

WRITTEN FOR A BOOK-MARK. 

Again Ave liail the happy morn, 
New-risen o'er a world forlorn, [born 
Night's glorious birth when Christ was 
In Bethlehem ; 
Endeared and noble friend, 
Forgive the gift I send. 
An offering that may lend 
Each d ay a gem ; 

So may we seek each day and find 
In Christ our joy and peace of mind, 
God's richer gift to all mankind. 
Christmas, 1873. 



^fdtfcr fltts bent JeBcn^Bttt^. 



^eure, [iife ^[Ruttcrfpracpe ! 
3Dettten Saut tiergejy id) nit, 
3Der mtr ctnji fo i()olb erfUitigett 
3n beg Seben^ feFger grii^'; — 

X)fr tm fc|)onett Sleitj ber Sugenb 
Stef in ttietne ©eele brangj 

SBerbe n)ac|) tn memem Snnern, 
Sangft tttrflung'ner ©(ocfenKang! 



3)e§ %vWiUx§ 3l6en&lie&. 

Sttuag geroagt, ^tma§ gettjonnen ! — 
SSodentet, trag ter g(ei§ bcgonnen t 

2a§ traufein in ber ^amm'rung (StiOe 

Dein ^ontgt^au, 

S)etn etler ^onigt^au, 
.^r^j^anenrein, »om J^immel^blau* 

2Bie yiele Jaufenb matten ©lieter 
©infen im 2trm ber S^lu^e nieber, 
Unb nac^ beg Slageg Saj^ unb Summer 
Srgeben ft(^ bem fit^en ©c^Iummer; 
5^ur (Stner wai^t, — 
S^lur Stner liebenb tt>a6^t 
Unb aa^lt ben ^ulg ber fitaen ^aiijU 

Stmag Qewagt «nb 5^ic^tg geroonnen ! — 
©0 tjl ber f^one STag entronnen ; 
3(^ ernte 3:ro(l unb S^lu^e fparlic^ : 



216 SSIatter an^ bcm Sebcn^bud^, 

£)oc^ ^6r' i(^ flte^en unauf^orlid^ 
S)ert ©trom^bcr 3^^^ — 
£)en Tauten @trom bcr 3^ifc 

3n'^ j^ittc mm tcr (Snjigfcit* 

@tnja0 ficwaQt, Stwa« gcwonnctt ! 
SCenn ein(l, »on ©onncn ^in ju (©onneti, 
2lu«want)ernb aug bem @tau^, ic^ fd^me^c; 
£)ann fling' bie^ 3«w9«tg mir unb |e^e 
SJlein (3ti% kfrett, 
J^cc^ u6er 0laum unb ^dt, 
3n'0 SJJorgenlid^t ber Swigfelt 



5^un Brtci^t ber ti^te 5BoIfent)amm, 

21m ^imntel meiner Seele; 
Die QOttltc^ fcfconc griebensflamm', 
9JJit Mmmlifcfe reiner ^rac&t, 

3n meiner ©(^roermut^g^o^le, 

2)er ^ummernad^te ^erlent^au 
©efeucfetet nun tie S^an^en ; 
SQBic ^ing e^, ob ter ©epienau, 
©0 lange fdjraar^ unt fc^roer, 
Unt ftel ter ©eufjer ^eer, 
2)a Sidjt unt) 3Bolfen rangen* 

5)er tiefftc Summer floret nur, 

«Rie ^eilt tie jlumpfe ^(age ; — 
O Ibranenbati, tu bej^e ^ur ! — 
5Ba3 unau^fpredjltd), fpri(^t 
($3 fanft t)ie 3:()rane nicfet, 
X)ed Jpcrgeng bej^e 8pra^e? 



218 S3latter auS tern ^eben^buc^, 

5)dc^ ^err, mer lag oor Deinem Zt^ron 
Unt) rief ans bunfler ^ot)Ie? — 

SSegliicft ^afl X)u ben @rbenfo()n, 
Dem ^(mmlifd) fu§e0 gtcbt 
t)urdj 9ladjt unt SSolfen bric^t; 

Drum iau(^5et meine (Seele* 



DEK OWETSTERK 

Du stiller, heiliger Owetliimmel, 
Mit deinem sclieene sterngewimmel, 

Mei dreemisch Herz begrieset dich ; 
Da weckscht die zarte Lieb'sgefiele. 
So gaoz allee im Owetkiele ; — 

Nau denkt die Betsy g'wiss an mich. 

For guk juscht mohl, es biinzelt ehrlich, 
Sell golde Aag am Himmel herrlich, 

Der freundlichsiese Owetstern ! 
Ich hab's proposed, un Sie verwilligt, 
Un seller Stern hot's grad gebilligt, 

(Verliebte dhut er's immer gern,) 

Wann mir en zeitlang misse scheide, 
Daun soil er an de' Duschberzeite 
Als unser Herzvertrauter sei ; 



220 BLATTER AUS DEM LEBENSBUCH. 

M'r derfen ihm die Secrets sage, 
Un uiis're siese Schmerze klage, — 
Verloss dich druf er bleibt getrei. 

Weit, weit dhut uns der Erdball scheide ; 
Doch du, du bleibscht un scheinscht uns Beide, 

O Licht der Liebe, hell un gloor, 
Mir iw'rem Bergfeld dort, dem grose ; 
Ihr iwer Diicher, Staab un Stroose, 

Dragst du dem Wunsch die Fackel foor. 

O heel das siese Weh im Herze ! 

Ich kann's jo ball net meh verschmerze, — 

Geh, schieb am Wageraad der Zeit ; 
Dann derfscht du bal uns widder sehne, 
Der Grosz' mit sein're liewe Glene, 

Im Town spatziere, seit by seit. 



DEE ALT PATER. 
"Ja, der alt Pater war 'n guter Mann." 

— 'N. Bauer. 

Dee Pater war 'n guter Mann, 

Des sage all die Leit ; 
Er ruht wol now im kiele Grab, 
Un geht zu Erd, im Asch, un Staab, 

Doch lebt sei' Lob noch lieit. 

Der Pater war ke' Congressmann, — 

Ke' Govenier im Staadt ; — 
Wern all die Leit wie Pater war, 
Ke' Ow'richkeit, ke Law sogar, 

Kunschtabler noch Saldat, 

Breicht m'r ira scheene Freiheitsland, 

Es war' wie'n Paradies ; — 
Er war ke' Bickbuk seiner zeit. 



222 BLATTER AUS DEM LEBENSBUCH. 

Der Node forgt, un griest die Leit, 
Mit Worte zucker-sies. 

Der Pater war 'n Bauersmann, 

Vum gute alte Schlag ; 
En fertel Meil vum Kerchhof Daus, 
Wu'r schloft im stillCj kleene Haus, 

Bis an der letschte Dag, — 

Do lacht de8 Pater's Bauerei 
Im Dahl, so grie un reich ; 
O Erd', du bischt nocli immer schee, 
Wann's gute Mensche dreiwe meh' 
Wie Pater in seim Deich. 

Mit Parre hot er's gut gemeent, — 

AVar ihnen herzlich trei ; 
Sie hen's ah ziemlieh gut gewist, 
Un nie des Pater's Haus vermisst, 
War als die Kerch vorbei. 



DER ALT PATER. 223 

Sei Herz war uff so wie sei' Haus, — 

Nie war'n die Schrauwe loos ; 
Ke' stimmes hot's zuerst gebraucht, 
Ke' scheene Worte, hibsch gehaucht, 

Ke' heilig Aagemoos. 

'N Binder war er wie mir All, * 

Un hot's ah dief bereud ; — 
XJn doch, un doch, O scheene Seel ! 
Wie winsch ich mir dei' himmlisch Dehl, 

Dei' selig End un Freid. 




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